Assassin's Creed: Reincarnation
by Chicago Typewriter
Summary: The concept of the Animus is taken one step further - the Ancestor is brought to the body. Altair will face the war beside Desmond, Astrid and the remaining Assassins with impossible odds and the aid of modern technology. There is no turning back.
1. Escape

AN: I don't own Assassin's Creed.

**Chapter One: Escape**

He felt different.

His eyes were still closed and he had not reached full awareness yet but what he _could_ feel was perturbing. The feel of his body was different. His art and training had allowed him full control of every muscle and joint in and he wielded his body as he did his sword: with expert knowledge yet he was aware of the difference. He was longer – taller? – and his shoulders were slightly broader. A breath breezed in through his lips and nose and the foreign smell hit him like the scent of blood. He could not place it and it made him wary – it was as strange rust-like scent and another scent and chemicals that burned his nose. The burning caused him to convulse with coughing and he doubled sideways and drew in shallow breaths. He froze when he saw his hands. The skin was slightly lighter and his fingers were longer.

All ten of his fingers were longer. He stared at the ring finger – the one Al Mualim had sliced off during his initiation – in complete disbelief. It had been cut off for his reception of the hidden blade. He flexed his hands and felt a new power. He was stronger. Confusion rose like a fist and it was chased by panic.

He did not understand what kind of sorcery had occurred while he was … what had he been doing? He rubbed his nose – it was narrower – and closed his eyes. He needed to find his way to Masyaf and to Malik and to do that he needed to know where he was. He had barely taken notice of his hands when he saw his clothing – he assumed it was clothing – he saw it was also different. Softer, a lot less coarse than the white cloth he was used too. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his new hands and the present ring finger. The vision was sharper. Were his eyes different? He needed to escape.

Altair opened his eyes and stared around him at the strangest sight he'd ever beheld. The ceiling gleamed like his sword – it was metal – and everything looked strange and everything gleamed in a way he found unnerving. He sat on a soft bench, long enough to be a bed and he saw metal ropes from the wall suspended the bench. A latch told him the bed was easily hidden. The room was illuminated by a while orb – like an artificial sun that was entirely too bright for his liking. He took in the room he was in – a box with a door and no windows – before he became aware of one thing that had his defenses up and ready: his weapons were gone.

His hands searched his ribs for his wide belt and throwing knives as well as the short blade that his back and felt nothing for the soft cloth. The strange black fabric told him nothing of his sword. The only thing that was his in the room was his wide brown belt. On the table on the opposite side of the room sat a dirty brown band – eerily similar to the one he'd worn to do his former masters' bidding but it was different. He leapt to his feet, and stumbled slightly since this body was slightly faster and stronger – and he grabbed his belt hoping for the glint of steel and frowned when there was nothing. He usually kept his clothes perfectly clean but this band was nearly destroyed and not from battle but from age. The leather was crumbling and even if there had been knives in the tiny sheaths, the buckles were gone and one strap was missing entirely. He felt slightly exposed without his weapons, even though he was a tiny room alone, he felt as if he was missing something, like a limb.

He only had a few minutes to contemplate this before he began to feel the metal door. There was no knob and he rested both hands on it and tried to push and gritted his teeth in frustration when it stubbornly stayed shut.

The small thud alerted him and he whirled, his eyes searching for the source of the sound– a fraction of his mind taking it the comfort these new shoes brought him – and he readied his body to fight. His eyes snapped to a medium-sized square made of metal slits by the his bed and he froze when they shook and he could hear breathing. He could see something moving in there. To his shock fingers squeezed through the slit and the metal snapped off the wall, dropping to the spot his feet had been on and he stopped unsure of what to do when a woman's head emerged from the rectangular hole. She reached with one hand and pulled herself to a sitting position, her legs still in the hole when she looked at him with storm-gray eyes. Her expression puzzled him more than anything. Wrenching pain quickly followed the pure shock that raced across her features so fast but so deep that he paused and her hand trembled slightly when it stopped in midair when she reached for the metal rope. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again a second later, they were expressionless but he could see the tension in her body and face.

_It was simple_, she thought, completely disregarding the ache in her heart when he looked at her – his expression guarded and wary, _just get him out of here and bring him back to the Bureau_, not the expression he was used to seeing on his face. _It's not him anymore_, she reminded herself and glanced back it him. He would look the same to anyone, but she saw the difference. The stance was altered and the way he stood told her it was useless. He was wearing a simple white shirt and black jeans. The boots – she recognized the boots – were laced under the pants.

"Is your name…Altair?" She asked and he frowned but he didn't attack her. She was sure it was Altair, since they still had Desmond and were still getting memories from another source.

"It is. And who are you?" He responded cordially to the woman and she nodded, his voice was deeper, the flash of pain was so fast he almost missed it but it was replaced by a new sense of determination echoed on the firm set of her mouth and in her movements. The fact that she knew his name was puzzling but he was willing to listen as he sensed she was not an enemy. With motions as smooth as a cats', she leapt to her feet and reached inside the hole again. She pulled a black, shapeless bag and set it on the table next to his belt. He heart was beginning to pound now and she realized there was no going back. This was her mission – going against Johansson's orders – and she had to see it through for her and for… Altair.

"I'm Astrid. Take these. You'll need them," she said shortly and handed him a bundle of black straps and metal. His fingers combed through them and he realized they were small throwing knives. He fitted them over the white cloth of what he was wearing and snapped them on tightly. The blades were beautiful, slender and deadly. He ran a finger along one edge and stopped he saw the symbol – the Assassin's symbol on the hilt of the tiny knives. A short blade, sleeker and wicked-looking was snug in a black leather sheath that positioned the handle right over his shoulder. He flexed slightly and waited for a sword, but instead got two black metal wristbands and he examined them after putting them on. With a slight movement, a blade snapped out, gorgeously engraved with design and the symbol on the edge.

He looked at her and saw she had the same knives as he as well as a smaller silver short blade that was positioned on her lower back, the hilt pointing down, and it was so close to her that it would have been hidden by another layer of clothing quite easily. He watched her movements – quick and precise. She was an ally, he felt, and he relaxed slightly when he realized it meant that she had information of the occurrences that led him to be trapped here.

She pulled out a small black device that blinked numbers and she held it to the door – to his surprise it stayed on – and turned a small dial. She was moving as fast a she could and she moved around him – the small room making it difficult to not brush against him as he flexed to get used to the new weapons. The numbers blinked rapidly and she then pulled a strange looking metal object from the black bag and cut the thin metal ropes that held the bed and using her foot as leverage against the wall, she grunted and ripped one end from the wall. Feeling slightly useless, Altair grabbed the other end and pulled as she cut the rope. Astrid dropped the tool and checked the bag - it was empty and her cell phone was off.

She stopped suddenly and looked at him, her face somber, and her eyes deadly serious. He was sure he'd never seen eyes that storm-gray color before. "I'm going to get you out of here. We are going to hide behind this when the door blows and we're going to run. Follow me and if anyone comes at us, I'll get them but watch your back."

What she said made some sense. Altair had caught the gist. Escape, he thought, and run after her. The dialect was different but he understood it well enough. She propped the bed against the wall and walked to the small device on the door. Taking a deep breath she pushed a small red button and ran back to him, pulling him along, hid behind the metal bed. She clapped her hands over her ears and he stared, wondering if she was sane when the explosion roared through him.

He was not prepared for the impact, the noise and the absolute shock of the explosion less than ten feet from where he was. He felt rather than heart ricochets of metal whirring past his head and snapping into the wall, leaving dents, he realized this is why Astrid had cut the bed off. His ears rang it and it felt like a wall – the shockwave – had slapped him against her and into the wall and white spots broke out along his vision. The woman, Astrid, was on her feet and pulling on his arm, shouting something and he recalled her plan and tried to follow. His knees were shaky and he shook his head hoping to clear it. The ringing in his ears would not stop and he stumbled along behind her, trying his best to keep up. Alarms were wailing everywhere, deafening him even more but his training had taught him adaptability and his vision cleared.

He ran alongside her now, turning when she turned and he watched her and their surroundings like a hawk. The place was like a maze and he didn't know how she knew where to go but he heard the breath she huffed out in relief when she they came to a door and she didn't stop, just shoved it open closed it. She jammed it as well and leaned over the railing to measure the distance. She had a smaller bag on her hips, he saw and she opened it deftly and pulled out black rope – thin but strong beyond anything he'd felt – and used a metal snap to tie it to the rope and then swung the rope upwards so it hooked onto the railing above them and the rope dangled in front of them. She then clasped two metal objects – with handles – on the thin cable and looked behind her toward the door. She wordlessly worked and assembled the objects to they were one below the other motioned for him to come forward.

Altair stepped forward cautiously. He deducted that they were meant to go down the rope but he nearly gaped when he saw the height. Standing on a small ledge on the top of the towers in Jerusalem was nothing compared to the spiraling stairs that became smaller and smaller as they sunk into a pit, it seemed.

"Okay, listen," Astrid said, her voice slightly strained as cold, heavy footsteps were heard on the other side of the door, "Hang on to the top one. To brake – to stop slowly – you use your thumbs and press both buttons on the handles and we will slowly stop falling, but you're a backup brake so I'll take care of that. Understand?" Astrid was staring at him intently her heart pounding in her chest. They were progressing better than she thought but her guard was still up.

He realized that they weren't actually speaking in his own dialect, but a different language altogether. He didn't know how he understood it or how it came out of his mouth when he spoke but he knew that she was ally and he'd have to trust her until they were another area. Then he'd question her. He nodded and watched her gracefully vault over the railing as if there was a place to land on the other side and with one hand, as she was still vaulting, she caught the handle and swung into position with her other hand already gripping the twin handle. She held the rope steady and looked up at him.

The body he was in was different – stronger – than his own body so he was cautious when he climbed over and gripped the handles, his feet planted on the railing. When she saw he hand a strong grip, she stopped holding the rope steady and just hung from the handles, her feet curling around the rope. As soon as she did this, so did he and he dropped so they were hanging and pressed together, their faces awfully close, and his feet also twined around the rope, below her feet. The focused expression on her face did nothing to betray the tumultuous emotions inside her. She had never thought he'd be this close… but it was Altair, not who she was thinking of. The body was as familiar to her as her own was and she had noticed Altair adjusting to the change quickly. If he held on they would make it.

"One more thing," Astrid said, swallowing back the urge to stroke his face, and made her tone a tad dry, "don't let go." She smiled briefly and sardonically and released the small lever in the center and then they were falling. It was like cutting the rope and free falling. Altair drew in a shocked breath and sheer adrenaline had him grasping the handles tighter. He would have preferred leaping from a tower were the stairs weren't so close to them. He was surprised to find that he liked the feeling of falling as opposed to the free diving and jumping he used to do in Acre and Damascus.

The woman, Astrid, had gone perfectly taut and her lips were pursed in a straight thin line and her brow was furrowed. Her thick black hair whipped around and they fell. Her skin, the tanned color of dusky gold, had paled slightly and he felt a slight tremble in her knees. This told him that she was nervous, and possibly afraid, but the sheer concentration and will had her perfectly still. To her credit, although she hated falling and heights, she didn't scream or make any sort of noise. She just counted the levels they passed, knowing that the rope ended twenty feet from the first floor and she had to brake at least twenty feet from the end or else they would really free fall to the ground. They had been on the fifteenth floor and Astrid narrowed her eyes as she began to subtract.

Sure she had counted right, she pressed on the button and they slowly began to slow their fall.

Astrid looked up and let out a breath of relief. Through the haze of relief she looked up and saw that the reminder that the mission was not over and she swore under her breath. Above them, were Templars – their modern reincarnation – and they were leaping down the stairs at a speed that even Astrid admired briefly before doing the final bit of their escape. Using their slowing fall and her body, she managed to get a swinging motion, it went smoother once Altair got the hang of it.

"Take it," Astrid gasped when they got close enough to the railing and he did. The hairs on her neck stood up and her gaze snapped to the top of the rope where she saw a vicious grin and the glint of a knife. She bared her teeth as Altair vaulted over the railing and reached for her arms to help her.

He was less than a centimeter from her when the knife cut through the thin rope and Astrid really began to freefall. Her heart thudding in her throat she reached for her hookshot and aimed. With a slight pop, the cable that deployed out with the claws at the end curled around the railing and she winced when the pressure on her arms stopped her from falling.

"Down, Altair!" Astrid shouted but he was already running down the stairs. She climbed over the railing and waited as the cable from the hookshot gun slid back into place and Altair reached her.

They didn't speak, just kept running down the stairs. They were on the west end of the building – where the truck docks were and Astrid ran harder, skidding slightly when they reached the bottom and she kicked the door open. They were in the warehouse now, so close to the end when the alarms reached them and the doors began to close automatically.

"No!" Astrid shouted and felt the burn in her legs and heard Altair's breath coming hard and fast next to her, his feet slapping the ground as they sprinted – neck and neck – towards the garage doors that were creeping shut.

Astrid didn't care, she dived under the door as Altair rolled under it, and grunted when she landed outside, on the hard gravel, on her shoulder. She rolled to her feet and was still running, Altair a few steps behind her when and she let out a sigh of relief when the black car whipped around the corner, on the other side of the chain-link fence that she began to scale - Altair next to her, following her every move – and dropped to the ground. Without any warning she nearly ripped the car door off and she shoved him inside and got in behind her.

"Don't move!" Astrid snapped, ignoring the pangs in her heart as she pinned him down and held up a scanner – built by one of the Assassin's designed to find and destroy any tracing devices implanted in the body – to his face. Altair struggled slightly but she was not harming him. Everything was happening too fast. He didn't know where he was. "Gotcha!" Astrid whispered. They had implanted the trace on his left arm and Astrid targeted the glowing device on the screen and squeezed a small trigger and was relieved to see the device fizzle out and Altair jerk slightly with the shock.

The woman looked at his face for the second time and her expression was sad. "Get some rest."

Altair did the only thing he thought to do. He passed out cold.


	2. 2012

Chapter 2: 2012

The room he woke in was different from the room he'd been held captive in. The only difference here that he managed to process was the floor-to-ceiling windows and the open doors. The bed he woke in was softer and bigger, closer to the floor than traditional beds. Altair snapped straight up – already tense but the sight of the empty room did nothing to relax him. He located his weapons next to him and grabbed the small dagger – the weight of the weapon giving him some form of relief. Something was going on, Altair realized, and he did not have Malik to help him with this. He did not understand what brought him to this strange world but he knew the woman, Astrid, had answers. He stepped form the pure white bed and stood – again struck by the difference in his body. Someone had undressed him and slipped soft black pants on and no shirt. Again, Altair stared at his ring finger, the one he'd readily given up for his hidden blade and bent it. What else was different? He needed a mirror. Almost as if it was placed for him, he looked up and saw his image.

It wasn't his face that looked back – he knew it because the scar on his mouth was missing. The thick black hair was wavy but he realized he looked he came from the rich district of Jerusalem or Egypt for that matter. The only thing that struck him was his eye color. His eyes had been pitch black and now they were lighter – hazel – and there was a scar on his neck. He traced it and looked at his face. Sorcery was not an option with something this elaborate. He needed answers.

He felt slightly overwhelmed by the change but before he could register most of what he saw, there was a soft tap on the door and the woman who'd helped him escape stepped into the room.

She was carrying a tray, breakfast, and she smiled gently at him before noting the short blade clenched in his fist. "Good morning."

"To you as well," Altair replied automatically, glancing at what she carried. He was starving, he realized, but he kept his eyes on her face – too pretty someone in their line of work – and her captivating grey eyes.

"You slept for nearly fifteen hours. I thought you might be hungry." Astrid set the tray down on the black dresser and tried very hard not to look at his face lest she might break down and ask him what he was thinking or feeling.

"I am," Altair responded and the smile faded slightly. He didn't say anything for a minute, just watched her tense movements as she glanced around nervously. "I have questions."

Astrid held onto to that. She nodded and smiled apologetically. "Johanssen will try to answer them," she said before backing out of the room, uncharacteristically freezing when he strode forward, the signature strut making her breath hitch in her throat. She clamped down on control and faced him dead on after the initial shock of his straightforwardness. She stared at him expressionlessly.

"You have answers," Altair said flatly and watched her face shut down all emotions – confirming his suspicions. He felt it in his bones that something was happening.

"I have some. Not enough. We'll be downstairs," Astrid fought the stammer and turned away from him, walking out of the room into the wide hallway where Lucy was waiting.

"Is that all the evidence you needed Astrid?" Lucy asked softly, watching the emotions in Astrid's eyes. She had no idea how much Astrid hurt and she felt slightly responsible for it. She had, after all, developed the Animus and they had used her creation to eliminate the person Astrid cared for the most. Astrid shook her head.

"It's not him anymore, I know, but… this changes so many things, Lucy."

-

It was easy to spot the master among the crowd. He was the eldest – in his fifties at least – and he had the commanding presence of a king. Altair knew he was among allies but he would not relax until he knew what had happened to bring him here. He was followed by whispers and wide-eyed looks from most everyone. The only person who would not look at him was Astrid.

"Altair, am I right?" a strangely familiar voice said near his elbow. The woman he saw was small and had hair the color of hay and eyes the color of the sky. "I'm Lucy. Come with me, we'll explain everything," Lucy said and motioned for him to follow her. He followed, noting that Lucy had no weapons, with the exception of the small knife he knew was fastened to her thigh. He wouldn't question her – she was more of an innocent than an ally.

Altair was brought to the man, Johanssen who watched him approach with speculative eyes. He had not heard Lucy's story yet as Astrid was the only one who had heard it but as Lucy approached, he was struck by the differences in the man. A swagger was now in his step and made his shoulders sway cockily and crooked smile that had been a constant was replaced by a somber, calculative stare that was devoid of all emotion but the intelligence there was startling. Lucy gave Johanssen a small smile before she cocked her head slightly to let him begin.

"Altair, you are within the Assassin's Bureau… everything Lucy will tell you is the complete truth – that I promise," Johanssen nodded at the distrust in Altair's expression. They knew very well of Al Mualim's betrayal and did not explain himself further. Altair knew better than to trust the instant liking he took to the man – in fact it had been the same way with Al Mualim. "Your clan has expanded in the years after your time – we are now in nearly every country on the planet – and I assure that is a lot of countries. However, we have to ask you to trust us when we tell you that we are beyond your time. The year right now is two thousand and twelve. I will assume you're familiar with this number?"

Altair was, in fact, familiar with the number – and not only did he not believe it, though everything around him contradicted it – he simply couldn't fathom that he was coherent a thousand years after his own existence. He shook his head. "That is not possible," he responded.

"Look around," a voice behind him said that he immediately recognized as Astrid's voice, "and tell me that we are lying. Hundreds of years have passed and even we cannot believe you are here. Better yet – look out the window. This the world now." Astrid gestured to the glass wall and watched as Altair stepped – swaggered – towards the crystal and look out to the city. They were in one of the countries metropolis centers and even without telling him, Altair knew. Magnificent steel and walls of glass speared the sky. The streets were now gray and smooth and we saw many steel machines – cars, he remembered – driving their grid pattern. This was not a lie, he realized; Altair swallowed the slight panic that welled behind his throat. He was nowhere near his place. He was nowhere near anything he ever knew.

"You may want to sit down," Lucy said gently, aware of the impossibility of what had happened to Altair. Altair did not move from the window but he faced them, waiting for the explanation.

"Sometime in the thousand years that progressed from your time and ours the Templars had gained power. So much power and so many powerful allies that we were forced to hide. Go underground for extended periods of time over many years. See, they were… resourceful in their ambitions of their vision of the new world. Nonetheles, we've been fighting since your time but the Templars and the Assassin's are nothing but myths now – unless you are one or the other. They hid themselves in plain sight. People see Templars everyday in every corner of the world because they are one of the most powerful financial and economic powers – in the entire world. And us? We fell behind and broke into smaller and smaller clans – still connected but barely together."

"That was our fault," Johanssen filled in. "We separated in hopes of leading them in different directions – but the lack of communicated had proved the downfall of many of our best. They've been hunting us to the ground. This is our biggest secret," he motioned around them, out the window and to the city. "They do not know we are one of their competitors in the world market. It is the last hope we have of standing together."

"They used our separation and hiding periods to research us – to find out about you and your descendants – to find the object you hid from the world when – " Lucy began and Altair knew this.

" – when I killed Al Mualim," Altair finished and Lucy nodded.

"They've made it their own personal quest to find all the Pieces of Eden and kill us all in the process. We've at least managed to slow them down for the past millennia and I'm assuming they've gotten tired of our interventions for humanity's sake. I developed a technology that allowed them to trace you from your decendants – though I did not know it until it was too late and I had infiltrated the Templars too well. They had me captive and it was my decision to stay behind and … try to gather information. After all, Vidic happens to be one of the top Templars. I didn't realize they could actually get it to work so well. They got Desmond – he is your direct descendant. My technology was meant only for Desmond to relieve your past. Don't worry – he's none to happy about it," Lucy added when Altair's brow pulled together. "He's held captive, actually, as am I. Still." Lucy cleared her throat. "Anyway, Vidic decided that the Animus – my technology – was too slow to retrieve information and without telling me, he contacted several people in my field and got to work on Animus Mark II. This technology is… awful. They took the concept of tracing your via Desmond's DNA further and used the remaining traces of it to bring you here into another body. They would have used Desmond's but they need him for another of your descendants."

"The body you're in… his name was Keith. The Templars… something happened and they got him," Astrid spoke up, her voice barely restrained, "and they wiped him out and put you in instead. The technology and science of it eludes me but I know enough from Lucy that you're stuck here. The Animus Mark II is a one way ride for you and Keith." Astrid swallowed and faced the window. She'd moved so she could see this all at once. Though she'd heard it all before, hearing it again in his presence solidified it for her.

Altair understood what Astrid said more than anything else Lucy explained. The concept of science and technology so advanced was barely comprehensible to him but Astrid's voice had explained it. The body he was in meant something to Astrid and his presence here was the Templar's doing and goal. True to his duty, he had already shifted his alliances to this Brotherhood – though Altair's mind flickered at Astrid and Lucy's feminine presence in the clan briefly – and to fight the Templars – no matter how impossible it seemed.

"Now that we've explained Altair's presence here – it's now time to decided what to do with you, Astrid." Altair glanced at Johanssen quickly and watched Astrid's jaw clench. Her gray eyes darkened to the color of a thunderstorm and they pierced Johanssen like steel-tipped arrows. Her chin jutted out defiantly she did not move.

"What do you mean?" Altair asked and Johanssen explained without taking his eyes off the raven-haired woman.

"Astrid's decision to retrieve you from the Abstergo Facility – the Templars – was only her own and went directly against my orders," Johanssen smiled at Altair. "She is due for a review."

"Review?" Altair questioned and Astrid's eyes flickered towards him.

Astrid smiled slightly – this time with no trace of bitter emotion and the transformation was starling. She looked approachable and beautiful. "I might get bumped down to novice." Altair's own lips curled slightly – knowing her reference to his own actions.

"Is that necessary?" Lucy questioned, glancing at Astrid.

Astrid shrugged. "I admit of full knowledge of orders – if I'm going to be demoted then so be it. Reality bites in a variety of sizes and teeth," she said to Lucy who frowned. She knew what was coming and she hid her smile, relieved to think about something other that Keith's absence – death, her mind whispered – and Altair's presence instead.

"Astrid's decision has benefited the Brotherhood," Altair put in and Astrid looked at him with surprise.

"Perhaps."

"Astrid will be needed for us to retrieve Desmond," Lucy said flatly, knowing this one was the one get Astrid out of trouble.

"She is… but it will also be her duty to train Altair." Astrid and Altair's faces froze.

"I know my way around weapons," Altair bristled and Lucy held up a palm.

"You do. But swords are… outdated, to say the least. Weapons have changed a lot, Altair. You need to learn this because… and Astrid and I, as well as everyone here, can teach you."

"What kind of weapons?" Altair thought of the device that Astrid had that made the door explode.

"The kind that go 'bang.'"


	3. Targets

**Chapter Three: Targets**

This time, he didn't miss – but he didn't hit the target on purpose. Altair felt his numb hands twinge when the forceful recoil forced his elbows to bend rather painfully and for his fingers to vibrate around the warm, silver metal of Astrid's weapon. He stared down at the gleaming barrel and the white target as if he couldn't believe his eyes and winced when he glanced at Astrid's face. She stood next to him – slightly cramped in the quarters of the underground shooting range that resembled a cement block and she had a bruise on her cheekbone – now it was _green_, Altair cringed inwardly – a result from his first try at firing the rather powerful weapon.

"What happened?" Altair nearly yelled – slightly deaf from the miniature explosions that seemed originate for the silver .45.

"I don't know, that's never happened before. At least you didn't belt me with it this time, thanks," Astrid said blandly and her lips twitched into a reluctant smile at the wide-eyed, uncomfortable look on his face. Astrid gently lifted the .45 from his stiff, still held out hands, slightly regretting starting him off with such a powerful gun, and slid the clip from the chamber, checking the bullets and for any sort of jamming. Her cheek throbbed slightly and it baffled her that she couldn't understand how the gun had flown in a perfect arc from his clenched hands to clip her in the face.

She reloaded the gun swiftly, without looking at the gun, and handed it back. She stepped closer, so she was slightly behind him and her mouth was close to his ear. Astrid winced. He even smelled different. Altair gave her a dubious look and she moved forward, stepping around him.

He just couldn't come to understand how the most basic and effective weapon – the sword – had been 'outdated' by the small L shaped piece of machinery he couldn't seem to grasp. The instinct to plunge steel into bare flesh was still raw and Astrid saw it, smiling slightly, thinking of all the things she'd have to introduce him to. She didn't even want to think about getting on the mats with him so they could practice their fighting.

"Look, Altair, I would explain the whole history of swords and whatever to you so you can understand why this is necessary – but the only thing is that Templars have lots and lots of these and they can reach very far and kill you just as well as a sword can, now watch this. You'll need to be able to do this." Astrid slid another weapon from the rack behind them – it was similar only slightly bigger – and she aimed without looking. "You will be able to do this," Astrid said as she hit a sequence on the keypad next to them and a timer appeared in front of them – behind the wide open space where targets would randomly pop up.

It was like watching a painter. Astrid's body relaxed completely - the only hint of tension was her furrowed brow as a she concentrated. The timer was set for thirty seconds and thirty targets – she had to hit them all, Altair concluded – as she moved her shoulders and torso to aim at the randomly placed targets. He stared, slightly open mouthed at the proficiency, the smoothness of her aim and the slight jolt of recoil he could almost see traveling from her hands to her shoulders as she fired, one after the other, each target snapping backwards with a perfect, circular hole dead in the center.

Astrid did not breathe or think apart from "Shoot, shoot shoot" as the targets snapped up randomly. The timer dinged a perfect score and she turned to Altair who stared at the piece of utter sorcery in her hands and then back up at her face. Though he liked these modern weapons, he still felt slightly empty without his sword on his hip. His hidden blade was strapped to his arm – and he rather liked the advancement that allowed him to keep his ring finger.

He was impressed, he couldn't not be impressed after a performance like that, but he still loaded the weapon he held slowly, remembering each step as she'd dictated and finally aimed at a single white target, dead in front of him.

"Slowly this time – no rush," Astrid said gently, trying to get him to relax, knowing the awful consequences of misfiring a gun – especially the .45 when tense. "The clip is ready now take a deep breath – another one." Altair stared straight ahead, feet slightly apart, arms bent slightly, his dominant arm holding the weapon, the other supporting and steadying his aim. Astrid's husky voice softened even more. "Relax, Altair, your entire upper body will absorb the recoil if you relax and you wont even feel it – now aim – sight alignment, remember? Take your- nice." Astrid blinked when the bullet hole appeared directly above the target's heart. She nodded approvingly. "Not bad for your fiftieth try."

Altair stared at the hole in the man-shaped target he'd just created and pictured – very briefly having his sword and spearing it through that same exact spot and knew the instant death both weapons would bring. His respect rose slightly for the weapon and he studied the sleek style as and liked the effects a lot – but he was exasperated for his newbie-status among the modern era. As an assassin, adaptability was key and he was adapting better than the thought, but he never gave a thought to weapons until he'd accidentally slammed the gun into Astrid's face.

Astrid took her gun from his hands and unclipped it. They've been at this for three hours – a crash course on recognizing, loading the clips and loading the gun. "The reason the recoil is so strong is because this is a Magnum – its extremely powerful so it will punch through anything and make a really big hole in a person which means complete obliteration. You like it?"

After the fact that he'd managed to shoot without hitting anyone, he felt he rather liked it. "Yes, I think I do." He wanted to try the timer but Astrid was already sliding the weapons in a locked drawer under the bench they leaned against.

Astrid smiled, knowing the male obsession with big guns and seeing the look of pure fascination on his face. Though barely three minutes ago he'd been reluctant about these "puny metallic toys," as he'd called them when he first saw them, he looked like he wanted to own one.

Altair heard the footsteps a second before she did. Altair still a little shocked at the fact that the Brotherhood allowed women – though he soon realized that the women, all led by Astrid and Lucy – had their skills honed to perfection and were equal with the men. The woman that walked around the corner of the shooting range was someone he'd never in his life picture as an assassin – which he guessed worked to her advantage.

Being a man – disciplined assassin or not – he was still struck by Quincy, who was Astrid's stepsister from before their launch into the Brotherhood. She was at eye-level with Altair, which made her one of the tallest women he'd ever encountered. Altair unconsciously straightened ran a swift hand over his hair, missing his hood. She idly twirled a knife between her fingers as if it were a blade of grass. Altair was also slightly unnerved at the short white dress she wore – no matter how much time he spent around Astrid or Lucy he still could not get used to the soft fabrics and small pieces of fabric that fashioned clothing today and Quincy was a prime example of the long tunic like shawls and dresses the clothes of his time were meant to cover up. Nonetheless, she was an assassin – and a Master Assassin from what Astrid told him – so she was a sister.

Quincy was well aware that Astrid was not going to take to the news lightly – but Johansson's decision to keep Astrid out of this was something Quincy did not approve of – especially since Astrid was a connected. "He's sending Sam and I to Abstergo tomorrow, Astrid."

Astrid's eyes darkened and the temperature dropped to subzero. "He asked you not to tell me, right?"

"He did. It's a reconnaissance mission. After us, you're going to get Desmond out – what hell was that?" Quincy stumbled slightly as the floor underneath them shook and all three felt the shockwave – a tremor that meant one thing. Astrid's face went dead white and her jaw clenched. They were running up the ramp before a single word had been uttered. With their hearts racing, flashbacks of the Templars' failed invasion of Masyaf flickering in his mind, Altair stopped dead at the top. Smoke clouded the main hall but he could see the entire floor was destroyed – no bodies littered the ground.

"They got out – we have to move!" Astrid snapped, pulling on his arm as they leapt over the rubble of the main hall. Altair stopped dead at the sight of the ripped wall. A big metal machine at looked oddly like a bloated bird hovered outside and the deafening chopping noise made him stumble back, shocked to the point of blanking out.

"Templar chopper, get down!" Quincy shrieked at the top of her lungs, diving to the ground behind a slab of concrete. Altair stood, eyes wide and Astrid scrambled over, her mouth was moving though he couldn't make out what he was saying. The roaring and wind whipping pebbles at him hurt – stung his skin. A rough hand pulled him down as bullets spat against the wall above them, leaving holes the size of his fists behind. He stared at the bullet hole before staring at Astrid who looked back him, grimly.

"I forgot to mention they get bigger, huh?" Astrid grunted when the slab – a column from the central area, Altair recognized – shattered behind Astrid's head and she dived lower.

Altair's hand curled around her upper arm and he nodded at the door that led to dorm wing of the building. Quincy and Astrid glanced at the door then at each other. "Diversion?" Astrid mouthed and Quincy and Altair shook their heads.

"You go to my room," Quincy whispered and Astrid looked blank before it dawned. She scrambled before counting and flitted towards the door before they could react. The sound of her blood in head was louder than the bullets that followed her perfectly, missing her by mere inches. She threw her entire weight at the wooden door, a cry escaping from her lips when the burning pain bolted from her shoulder down her arm but her training was solid enough that she was scrambling up before her body realized her shoulder was dislocated and was being snapped back into place by her other rough hand.

Quincy possessed an old launcher that their father – or rather, Quincy's father had kept and both knew that it worked perfectly and when Astrid spotted the ancient green metal, Astrid nearly ripped the long tube from the wall and fumbled with the old latches as she tried to synchronize the weapon. Ignoring the pangs in her shoulder she hefted the heavy launcher and stepped out into the hallway, running back to the door she'd come from.

Her eyes sought out Altair first by habit, who was nearly flat on his back, the concrete being shredded behind him. Quincy had moved, she was closer to Astrid than before and she was reloading a clip into a large silver weapon – a Magnum that even Astrid couldn't fire without stumbling back a few steps. Taking a deep breath to still her body, Astrid positioned the launcher and crept out, pressing the button when the chopper was dead on her cross hairs.

Due to the smoke and the fact that their focus was Altair since they could see the top of his head, the Abstergo agents inside the sleek black helicopter failed to see the tell-tale flash of an old grenade launcher. They were still focused on Altair that the sudden heat of their world exploding into flames around them didn't register until they were suddenly falling and while they were falling they managed to meet the gray eyes of a young woman with such intense focus and a slight smile on her face before the helicopter exploded, metal and fire ripping them apart within seconds.

The sudden silence made Astrid's ear pop and she held out her hand to Altair who grabbed on. She pulled him up and they were walking away, towards the garage without a backwards glance at the building.

"They knew we were here," Quincy and Astrid said at the same time. Altair had already come to that conclusion – but he listened.

"We know they want you," Astrid murmured looking at Altair, something nagging at the back of her mind. Some thing Keith said…

"It's Johansson," Quincy informed them when she glanced down at her sleek black phone.

"The three of you have been targeted by the Templars," Johansson said tensely.

"How? Why do you know that?" Altair demanded, his gaze narrowing on the device that emitted his voice.

"The car Quincy drove you and Astrid from your rescue had a trace – we managed to take it apart and it's hooked to an Abstergo satellite. They knew exactly where you were going and the car led them here. Astrid, it was Keith's car."

"I know," Astrid whispered.


	4. Wounded

**Chapter Four: Wounded**

"If Astrid finds out, she's going to kill you – literally," Quincy warned, her voice soft enough to be a breath and watched as Altair jolted nearly a foot in the air and he whirled, his mouth slightly open. His heart was thundering in his chest – both at Quincy's ghost-like appearance and his actions towards Astrid. Altair was constantly surprised by Quincy – his cultural bias about women being the source – and her ability to be as silent as a drifting feather in those ridiculous shoes she wore – "platform heels," Astrid had informed him when he had inquired into the strange, torture-like shoes - constantly. She now sat on her haunches, less that two feet from Altair, the skinny black plants and skin-tight turtleneck blending her into the shadows and both watched as Astrid loaded two jet-black weapons and tucked them into the back of her pants and began to walk.

"Would she really?" Altair murmured as they edged, parallel to Astrid's movements, along the roof, keeping Astrid's figure in sight.

Quincy shrugged when they paused to leap lightly across a roof – an alleyway – and onto the tops of a small strip mall. Her concern wasn't what Astrid would do to them if she found out they were following her in the dead of night after she'd disappeared at midnight Both assassins had laid awake listening to Astrid's soft breathing. Altair had left after his instinct told him she was gone and Quincy had followed, well aware of Astrid and Altair. Her eyes, however, were trained on Altair as she spoke softly again, "What are you doing?"

It wasn't a literal question – Altair had been in this long enough that when this question was asked, he needed to explain his reasons. He could be honest with Astrid's sister and he also knew that she was as observant as Malik on a particularly clear day and could see right through whatever lie he might throw at her.

"She knows something… something she hadn't though of before and she's not telling us," Altair said, his voice low, and Quincy nodded, also having come to the same conclusion. Both had realized that Astrid's thoughts were heading in an entirely different direction when Johansson had given their coordinates – encrypted in a rather difficult code that Quincy was still working on cracking – and Astrid's face had shut down, completely closed off from them, and had receded into a silence that tipped Quincy before Altair into Astrid's various conclusions about Keith and Altair before Altair – who had intuitively realized that something was wrong with Astrid, nothing more and nothing less.

Following Altair through instinct, her mind began to wander towards her sister's behavior and to what Altair had just said and murmured, "Yes, she knows. I'm surprised she…" Quincy trailed off with a quick glance at Altair. Unknown to Astrid, Quincy was also unnerved at the placement of Altair in Keith's body and she was well aware of all Astrid was suppressing… but, Quincy wondered, was Astrid really suppressing or was she simply… transferring all that to Altair? Altair's attention shifted from Astrid's stealthy movements to Quincy when she'd trailed off – the speculative tone in her voice tipped Altair off.

"Surprised she what?" Altair questioned, his mind briefly flashing towards Adha, long dead, seconds before he recalled Astrid's bruised face with her crooked smile looking at him from colorless eyes.

"We never knew what Astrid was planning or thinking unless she told us or she acted on it… it's the way she is. Was. Secretive, you know? Except around Keith before… and now she's an open book around you." Quincy shrugged again and knew it wasn't her place to tell him about Astrid's conflict.

Altair looked back at Astrid and felt the inkling of truth in Quincy's words. The woman who'd rescued him had been very different from the one who stalked the streets – she had been colder and this Astrid talked to him as if she knew him from long ago, even during his weapons crash course. It pained him slightly whenever she would wince, as if she forgot he was Altair, when she saw his face.

"Is it because I'm in his body?" Altair asked, his gaze drifting around Astrid who had paused near a green dumpster.

"Probably," Quincy said tonelessly, after scrambling behind Altair, who effortlessly leapt across the wide space, thirty feet up, and narrowed her eyes on her sister. They watched from the ledge as Astrid checked her GPS and looked further down the street. Their eyes strained as they tried to not to loose her to the shadows, she was clad in all black, and the gleam on the yellow streetlight on her pitch black hair was the only tell-tale sign of her location. Astrid straightened; tucking the guns back in her pants she resumed her tracks.

"She's going back," Quincy breathed and she glanced at Altair who nodded. He'd had his suspicions about Astrid's destination and was aware that she'd try to go back to the destroyed Bureau. They hurried along the roof, making another flying leap and Altair rolled forward from the force of his jump with Quincy never missing a step. They were nearly a block away from the Bureau when Astrid stopped and Altair echoed the gesture. His eyes sought the multiple figures, betrayed by their movement, placed around the building – all Templars, guards armed with the glint of metal and once again, Altair's hand closed around the hilt of his sword he'd taken from the armory during one of Astrid's lessons.

Quincy narrowed her eyes at her sister who with a glide-like movement vanished before their eyes into the darkness around her. Altair blinked, his eyes on the spot he'd seen her last and heard Quincy's grim chuckle.

"Like a blade in the crowd," Quincy said coldly, cocking the black weapon she'd lifted from her holster and twisting a silencer into the barrel.

Altair nodded and began to follow Quincy's silent form along a ledge that hid them from view – his hidden blade like a necessary limb, ready, impossibly lethal, his sleek throwing knives nested against his abdomen and they waited for the tell-tale sound that Astrid had infiltrated the building. Quincy met Altair's somber eyes and nodded. He had to find her.

********

Alone, Astrid stepped around the body of the fallen Templar. She took in her surroundings – the scattered rubble and dust before looking down at the body. Her lips pursed – not even a Templar, but a flunkie. Hired muscle of Abstergo. She flexed her pinky finger and the hidden blade retracted into its sheath with a feral hiss of metal sliding against metal - dripping blood onto the floor by her feet. She'd spotted the agents nearly a block away from the Bureau – twenty of them, strategically placed around the building. She'd had to crawl to get into the building but she'd take care of them once she'd retrieved what she was here for – she'd use the simple, silenced weapon to drop them one by one at her feet. Once again, doubt gnawed at her stomach as she thought of Quincy and Altair – hopefully resting before moving again tomorrow. She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. The stairs were not an option, Astrid realized when she finally located the back of the building where the stairs were and saw cement pouring out of the metal door.

So, she'd climb, Astrid decided and stepped nimbly around the rubble, keeping to the wall as she leapt and pulled herself up effortlessly and silently, freezing when she came to face the back of a pair of size fourteen boots less than two feet away. Her jaw clenched but the only noise she made was of the breath she expelled when she leapt, somersaulting onto the stranger's shoulders, her knees squeezing his neck simultaneously, choking his guttural cry, twisting her body and she felt, rather than heard, his neck shattering.* She pushed off his body, rolling and moving away from the limp body – head turned completely around – but she was already leaping, the hook shot already punching into cement that brought her one floor below her target.

Her aim was her former room and then Altair's – formerly Keith's – room for what she wanted. She spotted one more guard and lightly danced over the rubble until she was pressed against his back. He felt absolutely nothing but the warmth of his blood creeping from around the hidden blade that had plunged into his spine and the small hand that clamped around his mouth before his vision blurred and he dropped, to the ground, dead. She crawled now, a throwing knife flitting from her fingers and into an unsuspecting throat and she scuttled along the familiar ramp that led up to the main floor. Her eyes danced across the darkness, instantly wary as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up – alerting her to the presence of an enemy.

Astrid now straightened, stepping sideways, straining her eyes as she tried to seek out the enemy. She cursed, for the first time, the time she'd chosen to infiltrate the Bureau. She, as well as all the guard she'd killed, were at a complete disadvantage in the darkness It would come down to speed and reaction time if it came to a hand to hand fight. Fists clenched, she stepped into the hallway and froze in her tracks. A light bulb had been hung from a broken door and Astrid had enough time to see the silhouette of four figures with some rather large guns aimed before instinct had her diving backwards, gun already firing as she hit the ground, on her back with the four bodies ahead of her.

She reloaded the swiftly and looked around as the gunshots echoed back at her. She was still on high alert but she knew that the silencer was now obsolete. Every guard had to be alerted of her infiltration so she ran to the end of the hall, aiming her fist at the lonely light bulb, shattering it, and kicked the door to her room open, eyes already darting around the room for anyone that might be hidden. She had enough time to slip the bag from her ankle and jamming her laptop inside and backing out of the room and darting into Altair's. She wasn't sure, before, why she'd left the sleek laptop on the desk but now, when she saw the it was unscathed, she grinned slightly before remembered the purpose of this.

She'd never had a reason, until now, to hack into Keith's computer – as it was open but she knew now that Keith was still a player in this situation – dear or not – he had something to do with Altair and Desmond and the trace on his car spoke volumes. She stepped out of the room, habitually closing the door and she saw the flash of steel out of the corner of her eye – arcing perfectly towards her body.

Astrid fell to her knees, pain spearing through her side as steel kissed her flesh. She instinctively rolled away from the pain and hit the wall with her shoulder. She heard rather that saw the sword and rolled sideways again and gasped when the blade stabbed into the wooden floor, exactly where her head had been. She cried out again when a steel-tipped boot connected with her ribs and she rolled forward, her hand instinctively sliding the short blade from the sheath on her back.

Her face paled when, in the pure darkness, she saw glints of steel twirling. Her short blade clenched in one hand and the deep cut on her side bleeding freely and pulsing white-hot knives of pain into nearly every part of her body. She gritted her teeth and lifted her short blade, hissing out a breath as the cut blazed under her skin, and she set her feet apart in a defensive stance. In the hallway, she was at an advantage, since he could only come at her from the front… but she was wounded. Her gaze narrowed on the steel glinting and watched as it moved closer and closer, finally lashing out and Astrid blocked it, tossing her weight into it, a pain-filled whimper escaping her lips as her movements allowed a new torrent of blood to flow and for numbing pain to spread down her arm all over her side.

Cold sweat broke out along her skin and Astrid let out a shaky breath. She could hear precise, deadly footsteps and her other hand held the strap of the bag. If she could…

Astrid screamed when the steel flashed again and she blocked the violent blow with her own force, making her side explode with fire and she stumbled back, her other had cupping her side and she felt the long, deep gash that had opened as her movements had encouraged. She knew the severity of a wound like this. She needed to leave.

The steel flashed again and Astrid barely dodged it, a sob ripping from her throat, as she rolled backwards, eyes watering with the pain – but she rose, short blade up, legs steady and she gasped out breaths, eyes darting form the flashes of steel to the door behind him. If she could somehow get to the door, she could run but the thought vanished when she parried another strike, this time lashing out with her left leg at the same, grunting when her boot connected with flesh – it felt like his head – and Astrid shoved at her attacker with her shoulder, stumbling past but throwing herself to the side when the air whistled at the blade sliced through.

"Astrid!" The voice was loud and close and Astrid nearly fainted with relief when she recognized Quincy's call. Her blade clashed and she couldn't see. She didn't move when Altair dropped in front of her, leaping form a pile of rubble and blocking her view of her attacker. Astrid fell to her knees as watched as Altair wielded the sword with the ease of her wielding a gun. He counter-attacked brutally, stabbing his blade into the invisible body as hard as he could before sheathing his sword and looking at Astrid.

She was pale, much too pale under her tan complexion, and he smelled blood before he saw her completely. She was hunched, fingers curled around the short blade and the other clamped around her side that gleamed with blood. His heart, already slamming into his ribs from his manic run to Astrid from the first floor, stuttered when she wavered and her eyelids flickered weakly and his breath hitched in his throat. He was ready to grab her when Quincy's pale face, eyes wide with suppressed terror and fronting determination, was suddenly in front of him.

"Take her!" Quincy snapped and nearly threw Astrid into Altair's arms. He nearly staggered but caught her as she began to slide to the floor. He lifted her with ease and followed Quincy's retreating back.

"The bag," Astrid breathed and Altair grabbed the strap and swung it over his shoulder without thinking. They wasted no time in running over the rubble, Quincy's gun flashing as she killed another target, Astrid's shallow breath gasping from the jolting of Altair's running. Quincy was ahead and had already broken into a black SUV – she ripped the door open seconds before Altair wordlessly dived in and didn't flinch when the door slammed shut with enough force to shake the vehicle.

"What's wrong with her?" Altair demanded when he saw Astrid's drenched clothes. She was much too pale and Altair's heart began to beat harder – which had nothing to do with Quincy's manic driving.

"Blood loss. We have a few minutes. Put pressure on the wound," Quincy snapped through clenched teeth, her knuckles going white as she squeezed the steering wheel. She stilled her shaking hands and resisted a glance at the rearview mirror ad tried to be deaf to Astrid's whimpers.

Astrid gripped Altair's clothes – the black she searched for the place she'd spotted on their way here. It was a women's clinic they'd passed as they trailed Astrid. The clinic must have all that's needed to help Astrid whose breathing was getting shallower and shallower as Quincy turned violently into the parking not stopping until they were on the sidewalk and the front of the SUV was crumpled against the front of the clinic. Altair shoved the door open, Astrid cradled in his arms, and he followed Quincy who had already picked the lock to the clinic and was disabling the alarm.

"Get her on a table," Quincy ordered once he was inside and he set her down, reaching instinctively for a candle and blinking when overhead lights blinked on and Quincy strode into the room, to the many class cabinets that lined the walls. "Take off her sweater, quickly, she's lost too much blood."

Altair swallowed when he lifted the bloody clothing off Astrid's body, leaving a red pattern on her skin and he gritted his teeth when she cried out softly – her eyes still miraculously open and aware. The gash was long – as long as Altair's forearm – and it curled around her side into her waist and over her right hip. She was shaking and Altair ripped the cloth, forcing it open as Quincy approached with bandages, a bottle of clear liquid, needle and thread, her jaw was set and eyes distant and business-like but her trembling hands gave away the turmoil inside her. She nearly faltered when she saw Astrid's side and felt a small inkling of admiration for her sister who had remained awake and was now staring at Altair's face as if it was the last thing in the universe.

"Astrid, this is going to hurt like hell," Quincy said before pouring a clear liquid onto the gash. Astrid flinched but the scream that erupted from her throat ripped both into Quincy and Altair and they both stuttered in their movements – Altair holding her shoulders down as she convulsed on the metal table and Quincy already on the second stitch. The process took Quincy half an hour – a better hour than before now that both were sure Astrid was not going to die. Altair supported Astrid's limp body as Quincy wrapped the creamy gauze around Astrid's middle, making sure not to touch the wound.

They did not speak once Astrid was bandaged and Quincy was taking deep breaths from her mouth, calming herself as Altair did. Quincy sighed and searched the cabinets once more for painkillers, knowing that once Astrid woke up, she'd be in awful pain. She was calm enough now to notice the bag dangling from Altair's hand. "This is what she went back for?" Quincy asked and Altair nodded, suddenly aware of what he carried.

In complete silence, Quincy checked Astrid's vitals. She noted that her pulse was weak and she was still extremely pale – which meant they needed to give Astrid blood as she'd lost so much… Quincy's eyes briefly landed on the soaked sweater, the black glistening with Astrid's blood, and suppressed a shudder. She shined a light in Astrid's grey eyes and was satisfied when the pupils shrank in size – a sure reaction that made Quincy sigh in relief, a tension she was not aware of leaving her shoulders like a cascade of rocks. "Let's go," she murmured.

*********

Astrid woke to a horrible stinging and aching in her side. She tried to sit up but fell back after a squeak slipped from between her lips as the pain stabbed angrily at her. She reeled from how battered she felt, how her entire body ached and throbbed with bruises. Groaning, she threw an arm over her eyes to shield the incoming sunlight. While she recovered from the sedatives Quincy had injected her with after arriving at the safe house she began to recall…

The laptops. The Bureau… the flashing steel. Altair flawlessly killing her attacker and she looked down the length of her body, at the bandages that were spotted with blood. The stitches itched already and Astrid gently felt at the tender spot. This was the worst wound she'd received. Again, her mind flashed to the pure power in Altair's brief fight with the faceless man. He'd moved effortlessly... killing him within three minutes of landing in front of her. He'd saved her, pretty much.

"You slept for two days," Altair said softly and watched as the flinch that followed her startled jolt.

"Two days?" Astrid asked quietly, after she met his eyes. They were soft but she still could not read them.

"Yes. Quincy had the…" what did Quincy call them? "laptops checked for damage… they're fine," Altair informer her, wondering why the hell he was talking about computing devices when he didn't even remotely care about them. Astrid said nothing but her gaze did not leave his eyes.

"I would have died if you hadn't come for me, Altair."

Altair closed his eyes. "I know."

"Thank you," she breathed.

* * *

* If you want to know what Astrid's move actually looks like go here: http:// i42. tinypic .com/ dyllxy. gif

Without the spaces. Also, reviewing is love!


	5. Traitor

**Chapter Five: Traitor**

He was getting used to the beds of this time. Though Altair missed the soft pallets of Masyaf and Jerusalem, he found that he slept rather deeply on these mattresses but as a Master Assassin; he'd trained himself to wake at the smallest of sounds. Astrid's breathing had hitched and he opened his eyes to see her sit up slowly, her upper body trembling slightly and her arm curled around her stomach. Altair sat up smoothly and Astrid stilled instantly, startled at the sudden movement.

"Didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, glancing at Quincy from across the room. The other assassin was sprawled on her stomach, face shoved unceremoniously into the plain white pillow. The size of the house, furnished only for survival, had caused the sleeping arrangement to such that all three slept in the same room – on different beds since the entire house was wide-open big room.

"It's alright," Altair said and silently walked towards her as she swung – and winced in the process – her legs over so she was sitting and trying very hard to not wince again or make any movements. Altair could tell she was not used to being injured… or asking for help, for that matter. Altair offered both his hands, a silent offer, and Astrid's gaze flickered towards his face for a second before curling her fingers around his wrists. He pulled her up gently and eased her left arm around his shoulders, hand holding onto her hip, carefully not touching the tender wound. The height different was only a minor nuisance with her stretched standing on her toes – she was taller than most women – and he led her to the small bathroom where she slid off his shoulder with a small huff and she staggered in, catching herself on the sink. She gave him a grateful smile and Altair stared as she closed the door with a small click.

He'd been cooperating with the two extremely lethal women for the past six days he'd been in this time and he'd expected to develop some form of… armor or even be completely immune to the obvious difference in clothing and body. Yet, he thought, he was entitled to double takes when Astrid went to sleep in small black shorts and slightly loose white camisole and Quincy in just a man's shirt. Altair found himself, once again, filled with a small bout of homesickness. This time was erratic, the country – Altair had been shell shocked for nearly five minutes when he realized he was an entire ocean away from his own country – was alien to him. The technology – the internet? What the hell what that? – made his head spin at the idea of being "connected" to every corner of the world. The women were docile, bland and respectful… compared to the fireballs her resided with.

He rested his head against the wall next to the bathroom door and listened to the sound of water running and of Astrid's tentative footsteps around the cold tile and her quick gasps whenever she'd move too quick or caused her skin to pull at the wound. He recalled Adha's face and her brown eyes and the pounding connection he'd felt with her and was met with the primal, violent pull towards Astrid. Adha's face blurred like smoke and mirrors.

Inside the bathroom, Astrid stared at herself in the mirror. Her normally golden skin was pale, nearly translucent in the ugly fluorescent lights and there were purple shadows etched under her eyes that looked tired and haggard. Her feminine side kicked in when she noticed her hair, clumped and slightly dirty, fell lank down her back. Not wanting to risk a whole shower, she washed her hair in the sink wincing when her side throbbed angrily at her movements. Not being able to lift her arm much she squeezed her hair dry and used the toilet quickly, sensing Altair's presence outside the door. She huffed a bit, sitting up but opened the door a crack as a she washed her hands.

Glancing at the mirror again, Astrid lifted her shirt, checking the bandages and feeling the few spots of blood. Her entire right side was bruised, a perfect mosaic of green, purple and red that spread over her stomach and under her breast. They looked better than they felt, Astrid thought idly wincing a bit when her fingertips brushed over her colorful flesh. She was already used to the pounding ache in her ribs from the last twelve hours she'd spent cooped up in the house. This was going to take weeks to heal, she thought. Weeks they didn't have… and Astrid wondered how her wound would fare if it was protected with Kevlar.

Altair jerked off the wall when the door opened wider and she, a little paler than before, daintily stepped out and closed the door behind her. He wordlessly slung her left arm around his neck and helped her back to her bed. She was breathing heavy when the reached and staggered at bit, a groan escaping when her right arm shot out to catch herself. Astrid shook her head and leaned against Altair's side as she caught her breath, exhaustion completely taking her over like lead on her shoulders. Her blood loss did not help matters as Astrid had enough energy for the trip to the bathroom before collapsing.

"Are you alright?" Altair asked quickly as Astrid lowered herself slowly, her eyes narrowed as the throbbing ache intensified at her use of sore muscles and moving skin.

"I think so. I… really don't like being helpless," Astrid sighed and Altair only nodded, at a loss of words. Six days, he thought, is that it took for him to establish this volcanic eruption of incomprehensible emotions, one after the other, whenever he saw her face? "Good night, Altair."

She didn't know why she did it, but her hand, suddenly light as a feather, lifted and her knuckles brushed over his rough jaw. Her smile faded at the laser-like look that was beaming from his face and she was suddenly nervous. It was almost visible, the way both assassin's clamped down on self control and Astrid's still form was twins with Altair's stiff shoulders and the ineffable thoughts coursing through their minds.

"To you as well," Altair managed hoarsely and she looked down, not meeting his eyes as she carefully stretched out on the bed and Altair was already walking towards his. They would have to go to one of their blood banks for Astrid, Altair thought, slightly disgusted at the thought of cold blood in bags locked up in a cold room somewhere.

********

Astrid strategically waited until Quincy and Altair were gone to get blood from one of their warehouses. Quincy knew the location, Altair needed to go to know where it was and Astrid was still astoundingly weak. She from the smallest window as Quincy and Altair, now it normal clothes, slid into the car, smiling slightly at Altair's discomfort at being in such a tiny roadster, and back out of the driveway. The Brotherhood had its bases covered well, they'd purchased several safe houses throughout the city – this one was in the suburbs – where Abstergo would look last for them. She waited five minutes before taking small steps towards her room where the laptops lay on the table, still untouched. They'd decided to not join the others, though they communicated hacked cell phones, Quincy and Astrid had decided to stay in the safe house – in case there was another trace.

She sat down, wincing again when her wound throbbed angrily and drained her energy. She could barely make it to the kitchen without breaking out in a cold sweat so she'd have to push herself. Opening her own laptop first, Astrid bypassed the securities with ease, knowing her own passwords, but stopping to check the hardware nothing something she'd have never noticed before. She stared at the numbers, then double checked with the actual content on the hard drive, counting in the operating system, and her eyes narrowed to slits. Flexing her fingers she began to type, searching for the ghost drive she was aware had not been in her computer – why hers? her mind asked slyly – until the day of Keith's mission.

It didn't take long for Astrid to hack into her own computer and to find the ghost drive hiding among her hardware and she stared intently at the scratched screen. Once she managed to pry it open, she found herself staring at two folders. _Keith Clarke_ – the one she knew – and a _Keith Vidic, _a last name she was familiar with but could not recall where she heard it.

Astrid thought back to Keith's car and the trace and somehow it just didn't fit. She couldn't fathom how Keith, a man who slept with a loaded, customized .45 under his pillow, who double and triple checked their his room and his cars after every mission for traces and who trusted absolutely no one … not even Astrid. It was impossible and Astrid steeled herself against the obvious suspicions as she stared the two names on her screen.

"Who are you?" Astrid murmured, clicking on _Clarke _and scrolling through contents, frowning as she dug deeper. These were all of Keith's notes, photos and videos on his targets, as the documents' name said, in the same format as Astrid's notes on her targets but intuition had her digging deeper and clicking on the first document. Instantly, her brow furrowed and she stared in confusion. She didn't click wrong, had she? The document before her wasn't for the CEO of one of Abstergo's Euopean pharmaceutical branches as she knew it should have been, but rather it was an extensive sixty-page profile on Quincy, complete with details that made Astrid's brows rise in surprise, a photograph and a copy of her real passport… with her real name. Astrid drew in a surprised breath and her heart stuttered.

It was impossible… how had Keith acquired this information? Astrid's last name, among those in Brotherhood was different than the one of her birth certificate and her unique passport, simply because some things were better off not known about the people she worked with. No one knew the real last names - or even if the first name was real – of your partner with the exception of Quincy and Astrid who had known each other long before. Her heart began to thud harder in her chest as she clicked on more documents, each labeled "_Mission #_" and found more profiles, on Johanssen, Lucy and Sam – Quincy's partner - and she stopped at a document labeled "_Target_". Hesitating for only an instant she double-clicked and saw her own face on the screen underneath her birth name. _Astrid Castillo_.

Details about her youth, from her hospital birth to her vacation in Paris when she was five to her and Quincy's violent catapult into the Brotherhood, events, names of her family – known and unknown to her – and places she'd been to and had never told a soul were scripted on the longest profile she'd encountered… all under "_Tar_get".

"Son of a bitch." Seething, Astrid glared at her own photograph – a candid of her face, looking over her shoulder, face completely guarded. She recognized the photo and the small amount of setting and clothing it revealed told her it the day she met Keith.

As the pieces slammed, one by one, painfully into place, her breath began to hitch as she opened more documents, crowding the screen with files as she noted training schedules, sleeping schedules, coordinates of the Bureau and the surrounding buildings as well a security detail on each. She saw strategies on how to destroy the entire building, on how to terminate herself and Johanssen. Her fists clenched. It was over a year's surveillance work – the entire year she'd been with him – all written down and filed away like an assignmen.

_So obvious_, Astrid realized, her mind flashing to every single detail she'd overlooked about Keith's behavior as she navigated back to the first screen and clicked on the other folder – _Keith Vidic_ – and nearly fell off her chair. Shock had her hands going limp and mind cease to process any sort of rational thought as she stared at more photographs and, more importantly, the scanned ID tag which was the first and foremost file. _The son of Warren Vidic_, her mind whispered gently as she studied the ID tag, _Keith Vidic, Head Researcher; Abstergo Industries_. A scientist, one of the ones to develop Lucy's technology into what had brought Altair to this time… the son of the man who'd engineered Desmond's capture and the attempt on his family's life.

Astrid closed her eyes and gave herself ten minutes – only ten – to feel the volatile thunderstorm of betrayal and churning rage deep in her stomach that made her fists clench so hard her knuckles turned white . As a woman, she felt the stinging tears ebb into her eyes but as an assassin, they lulled down her face silently as the hurt dug deeper. Deep breaths calmed her raging heart and the betrayal lulled into an ever-present ache in her chest as she locked Keith away from her heart. He'd only been her partner… and later a lover but he wasn't true. _It's only Altair now,_ she thought softly, her mind drifting to the intensity on his face last night as they'd looked at each other – eye to eye – and read each other like books. Keith's face was no longer his.

The scientific specs on the Animus Mark II were lost on her as she read through incredibly long graphs and manufacturing instructions but it was automatic now and her trained mined absorbed every detail of Abstergo's product all the time thinking, _you are not getting away with this, Vidic._

********

"It's normal procedure now, Altair, stop looking like someone kicked your in the head," Astrid said, trying her hardest to not look at the needle in her arm. She knew enough to bandage, heal herself as much a she could but Quincy was qualified beyond Astrid's ability. Quincy was how staring at the screen on her laptop, at her own profile, mouth wide with shock.

"He knew my _name_?" Quincy sputtered, staring at the screen. "But… how?"

"It's problematic that he knew your name?" Altair inquired, still not able to take his eyes off Astrid's arm – where the needle pierced her skin and the plastic tube that snaked into the red blood contained in the plastic bag. He'd been repulsed when he'd entered the private blood banks of the Brotherhood and had seen the stacks of blood on the metal shelves. Quincy'd double-checked for a "blood type" before grabbing several bags from the locker. If he was repulsed, the sight of Astrid calmly sitting while blood was pumped into her was barbaric.

"In this day and age, anyone can find out anything about anyone… including us, as you can see. Our real names are the only thing we can hold on to that's… really ours," Astrid explained as Quincy glared through each of Astrid's discoveries.

"I can't believe it. He was with Abstergo all along," Quincy muttered.

"A Templar," Astrid added and Altair's gaze flickered at the mirror. It was hard for him to get used to his face, as every time he looked in the mirror he was practically a stranger and the missing scar along his mouth and the present ring finger unnerved him every time but he was very much aware that this was Keith's body. Unlike Quincy, Astrid's mind still flashed back to her time with Keith she saw Altair… thought it happened less frequently, Astrid found herself wondering about Altair's mentality and his personality during his time. He was no different now, she hoped, as he was observant and remarkably intelligent.

"He infiltrated us… does Johanssen know?" Quincy asked, turning to look at Astrid.

"I sent him everything this morning when you left. You know how he is, he just brushed it off and made Vidic and Desmond our priorities." Astrid shrugged under Quincy and Altair's observant gaze. "I'm pretty sure Abstergo has all these profiles. I just don't know why they waited so long to attack or why nothing happened for the entire year after they were made."

Altair listened intently. No matter the time different, it was the same. "We do not know what they want yet but we knew there is a deeper ploy that what we have," Altair stated, recalling the events that led to the Piece of Eden. Recalling the – realization hit him like a cannonball.

"They want the Pieces of Eden."

__

Not at long as I wanted it to be but I'm having a blank moment on where to take the next chapter. Will update soon!


	6. Pieces of Eden

* * *

**Chapter Six: Pieces of Eden; Reconnaissance. **

"That hurt."

Altair watched, once again slightly repulsed at the sight of Astrid holding out her arm, Quincy was once again checking her, and the needle pulling at her skin as it slid out of her flesh. Not matter how barbaric it seemed to pump Astrid full of strange blood; he could see the changes in her already. Her eyes were no longer heavy and glassy but alert and observant and she was no longer slumped weakly in the black computer chair, but sitting up with her shoulders thrown back and leg bouncing up and down with her newly transfused energy.

"Suck it up. Are you trying to tell us they're real?" Quincy cocked her head to the side and gave Astrid a sideways glance, listening to Altair's breathing as he mulled over his thoughts. and she turned her attentions back to Astrid.

"Yes," Altair confirmed, brow furrowed. Astrid was looking thoughtfully at the man. She'd also been under the impression that the Pieces of Eden were more than just a myth, but only because there was hardly any proof. But, she thought, Altair came from a time where the Pieces of Eden were at their highest point of popularity. He knew facts they didn't. He'd killed his Master for abusing one. Their original locations could be traced during his lifetime … a thousand years later they could not.

"Malik and I never really found them all when we went searching for them after I killed Al Mualim. We located ten but found six…" Altair trailed off. He knew they had found them because he could see Malik holding the gleaming silver sphere in his hand and depositing the Piece in their knapsack in his memories… but he just couldn't seem to remember where or when they'd found them. Or where they had hidden them. It was like a black wall he encountered every time he tried to recall, to retrace his steps that led to the discovery of the Piece in the orient where the memories just… stopped.

It was strange and Altair had noticed this phenomenon before. He knew events that occurred in his life but he could not conjure up a clear memory. Everything up to the death of Al Mualim was crystal clear but after…

"How could you not know of them?" Altair suddenly inquired giving Quincy and Astrid a surprised look. Astrid stood up steadily, smiling down at her returning strength, and sat down on the table where the laptops sat and lifted her arms. His eyes flicked to her bare midriff when Quincy lifted Astrid's camisole and tied it so only the bandages and her stomach where visible.

"You have to understand, Altair, that our recollection of history has gaps… hundred year gaps where we know nothing in the world and even less in the Brotherhood. After we splintered, it was difficult to know what was fact and what was fiction. The only proof we had of the Pieces of Eden were written in your Codex and we had a bit of a hard time translating those," Astrid explained, arms still held above her head, her face twisted in discomfort as the gauze tugged at the scabbing wound. Quincy wasn't being gentle either and Astrid gritted her teeth when Quincy yanked the gauze off of her skin like a whip and the cold air came in contact with the tender wound.

"But you knew they existed," Altair pressed, eyes carefully trained on her face and not the grisly, stitched wound on Astrid's side. The bruising had faded significantly in the past few days after Astrid's retrieval of the laptops but the wound was still angry, purple and bloody and the stitches did not help the outward appearance. Still, from what Altair allowed himself to see, there was no sign of infection.

"Johanssen knew, as did I. We knew you retrieved one from Al Mualim." Astrid couldn't help but slip into formal English, like Altair's dialect. She winced when Quincy dabbed the bright orange liquid onto her wounds that ceased to itch. She didn't know what her wound looked like. When she tried to twist to see it, it was like running a dirty barn rope over her flesh and ripping the stitches out with a rusty fork.

"It's going to scar," Quincy informed her absentmindedly. Astrid gave her an indifferent look.

"Why are they after the Pieces of Eden?" Astrid asked Altair, whose faraway gaze cleared and zeroed on her face again and he tried to recall what Al Mualim had said of the silver sphere.

"They wanted… control. The Piece of Eden Al Mualim possessed turned Masyaf into…" what could possibly describe what Masyaf had been like after his hunt for Robert IV de Sablé? "A sinister hell with that power. Temptation," he recalled, "The Pieces of Eden are temptation given form and the one who holds is has power over everyone."

Quincy and Astrid had gone still and had turned to stare at him, mouths slack and eyes wide.

"Are you joking?" Quincy gasped.

"Am I laughing?" Altair retorted, raising a brow at the woman.

"How many are there?" Astrid demanded, all thoughts of her wound vanished immediately after Altair's explanation of the Pieces of Eden.

"Malik never told me the exact number. He's the one that studied it after we retrieved it but he was astounded at the number. He believed less existed now because few were destroyed, according to the myth of our time. More than fifteen," he clarified and Astrid's eyes narrowed.

"Fifteen. They have the location of one… or most, I think," Astrid murmured, eyes glazing. If they brought Altair back directly and transferred Desmond to another ancestor – according to Keith's notes, the ones from his own laptop – it meant they had gathered all the knowledge they wanted from Altair… which would be the locations to the Pieces of Eden. That was the ultimate goal, Astrid realized, but they still didn't know to what end. On Keith's laptop there had been a level she had not been able to clear with security that had tripped her up several times before Quincy and Altair had arrived with her blood. The inaccessible level had tipped Astrid off on the grander scheme of the recent occurrences. Abstergo had something top secret planned but they, at the moment, had no idea what it was.

"You got that from Keith's laptop?" Quincy asked and Astrid nodded distractedly, her eyes on Altair's face.

"You know we have to stop them," Altair said lowly and Astrid's face-hardened with a look of pure determination. Altair had seen the resolution on Astrid's face and realized that they, Altair, Quincy and Astrid, were a formidable team of adversaries against Abstergo. However, at the somber look on Quincy's face, they realized their foe was much, much stronger than they would have hoped.

Astrid nodded slowly. "That is out mission then."

**********

Altair ran a hand along the sleek side of the vehicle, all his movements casual, not betraying the alertness of his state. His eyes pierced through the dark sunglasses and observed the entrance of Abstergo Industries. "A horse would never run out of fuel," he commented idly, recalling the brief lesson on car mechanics. His gaze flicked from guard to guard to the people that entered and left. Altair remembered the freedom he loved from the moment he first sat astride a horse and galloped through the Kingdom. It was a rush, to ride horseback through beautiful ground and it was decimated by the car and its drawn convertible top.

Astrid leaned intently on the palm of her hand, elbow resting on the compartment between them as she made note of the lunch hours. Her lips twitched into a smile at Altair's comment. "No, but they get hungry and tired."

Altair gave Astrid a very uncharacteristic smirk, still amused at her appearance. In her blonde wig, painted red lips and big white sunglasses that hid her face, she looked like and entirely different person and like every other woman walking on the street. It made her invisible to the Abstergo employees who probably knew her face already from Keith's profile and served the purpose of their silent, self-imposed reconnaissance mission - to stay anonymous. Astrid tapped the steering wheel lightly, a knowing look on her face. To say that Altair was impressed with the car was an understatement. Its sleek and ferocious design had peaked his interest for the moment Astrid had pulled up to the safe house with it. The car, he learned, was Astrid's personal car.

"It's a Shelby Mustang, so it's kind of like riding a horse," Astrid said blandly and flashed a wide grin when an unexpected laugh escaped him. He had not missed the gleaming silver rearing horse logo on the impressive back end of the car.

She had heard Keith laugh so many times before. This was so different. In the moment Altair let that small bit of emotion burst forth, her mind froze and she pictured Altair's true face, the rough features and serious black eyes, and the deep-throated, rumbling laugh sent shivers down her spine in the close quarters of the car. Altair's presence was overwhelming when his guard was down, Astrid realized. She'd almost let herself be distracted but her eyes caught a flash of white and she studied the man that just stepped out of Abstergo. Astrid touched Altair's arm and she silently nodded towards the man.

Minds thought alike as both assassins focused of the white lab coat of a man with thick glasses and owlish eyes. "Look at where he keeps his access pen and card," Astrid murmured, unconsciously leaning closer to study the man. Her feminine mind assured her that this man had no chance against Quincy. Altair drew his gaze away from Astrid's blood red mouth and looked to where the man was now walking. He caught a glimpse of something small and black.

"Do we need it?" Altair asked quietly, catching the scent of Astrid's shampoo – cherry blossoms, he knew – and breathing deeply.

"Yes. I think Quincy – where are you going? Altair!"

Instinct had Altair moving, opening the car door and climbing out silently, ignoring Astrid's questioning voice behind him. His walk across the street was a lot smoother than his previous tries as the black look aimed by Altair made the cars slow down as he crossed. Before he stepped onto the sidewalk, he completely transformed before Astrid's eyes. Gone was the arrogant, lethal aura that always reverberated around him – even in his sleep and before her a man who screamed "victim".

His walk became subtle and submissive when he stepped in line with his target: Lab Coat. Everyone around him blurred his target crystallized to startling clarity as he slinked closer. The man's walk was slow and measured an Altair copied it exactly blending into the sidewalk. Altair knew body language had not changed in the thousand years so he knew it would have the same effect. He felt the gazes and looks slide off him, their interest barely flickered and because of this, they failed to notice the basilisk stare that drilled holes in Lab Coat's back. Astrid was sure that under such an intense stare from _him_, she would have melted into a puddle of blood and bones.

He stalked closer, keeping an ear or the voices around him as no one paid heed to his presence and brushed past indifferently, his shoulders tense as Lab Coat was suddenly so close Altair could smell the sour aftershave coming off the man. Altair's five-fingered hand flicked out at the moment a breeze of fortune lifted the lab coat into a flutter, away from the body, and his fingers gently unclasped the metal of the identification card, simultaneously gripping the metal access pen and turning away from Lab Coat.

It was flawless, barely a second had passed and Altair seemed to brush against the man and then he was walking away, still in a submissive position, noting Lab Coat was still wandering away. The card slipped up his sleeve and the pen was clasped in his hand as he made bee-line for the car.

Astrid was watching the whole time and Altair slid into the car and, face devoid of all expression, dropped the card and the access pen into her slack hands. Her fingers curled around their loot automatically as she stared at him, mouth slightly open. As he smiled at her, a wide grin slowly curved her red lips as she studied the card. _Delon Myers, Laboratory Assistant; Abstergo Industries_. Priceless, Astrid thought. Watching him had been indescribable, he was a truly a master at heart and she couldn't fathom how he could hide all that lethal presence in a crowd of people that should have been backing away.

Her fingertips tapped a number into her cell phone and Altair felt the similar device in his pocket. Though he revolted against every piece of technology, he'd seen the practicalities of the cell phone but he looked, surprised as Astrid hammered a text-message into the phone and sent it. _Step 3, Q, Altair got the card and the pen_.

"Keep a look out," Astrid instructed as she grabbed a new laptop from the back seat and instantly hacked into Delon Myers' email. "Jackpot," Astrid hissed triumphantly, eyes narrowing as she downloaded the contents of the email.

"What?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. We were vey lucky. He was working under the development of the original Animus… and it seems he has some rather sensitive details about the Animus Mark II. More importantly, where they're keeping Desmond. Your descendant," Astrid added, focused on the screen.

There was something strange about meeting a descendant, Altair thought and briefly wondered what this man was like. If he was an assassin and came from his lineage, Altair was sure, that Desmond would not fail in his objective. Altair heard Astrid's phone vibrate and she snatched it up quickly and skimmed over the message. _Glasses and lab coat? He's a goner_, Quincy had written.

Smiling, Astrid downloaded the contents of whatever the access pen granted her clearance to and shut the laptop with a snap and set it back in the seat. She put the purring car into drive and pulled into the thick afternoon traffic, not caring it she only drove thirty feet down, only to park again in front of the restaurant where Astrid had seen Delon Myers walk in. Astrid rolled up the tinted windows and turned off the car.

They walked into the restaurant, a more of a bar than a restaurant, and sat the table closest to the door. Altair stared around him, envisioning merchant stands and stucco walls briefly before snapping his gaze back onto Astrid. "What we need is to set a trap door into Abstergo's network. We know that this can be accessed from the Abstergo building and the company issued home computers. We cannot get into Abstergo so we're going let – ah. There she is," Astrid smiled warmly at Altair, her gaze never leaving his face but she was intimately aware that her sister, Quincy, had zeroed on the impressionable Delon Myers. They ordered their meal – three meals – quickly and waited for Quincy's move.

Altair, once again, was treated to the amused, soft laugh from Astrid as he did a triple-take. Modern, Altair thought, seemed to be synonymous with indecent. He watched as Quincy, in a blood red dress that stopped at mid-thigh with a tight cream blazer and white ankle-strap pumps, sauntered, oozing sexuality and femininity like a cloak, to the stool next to poor Delon Myers. She didn't even look at Astrid or Altair as she went by but rather turned her headlights – both sets of them – in Delon's direction and both spectators could see the moment Delon Myers forgot his name. They didn't watch as Quincy, with her cover name of Belinda Harvard, sucked the life out of Delon Myers through painted pink lips and honeyed words over a lethal tongue.

They only had to wait fifteen minutes before Johanssen arrived, his elder presence making Altair feel like a novice again. "We have retrieved the information about Desmond's location, however, we need to keep an eye on the network so we know everything that's going on inside the building when we go inside."

"Quincy is going to set up the trap door," Altair explained, "and after we receive confirmation that we can strike, we will infiltrate Abstergo." The plan that he had helped come up with was elaborate but executable with proper timing – it all came down to timing. Even that hadn't changed.

"The plan – ," Johanssen began but Astrid cut him off.

"Our plan requires three people. Altair, Sam and myself. The less people know, the better. But you should set up some snipers outside the building to clear a path if necessary," Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Quincy, clasped around Delon's neck, left with the poor man to Quincy's monster SUV.

Altair watched the Master carefully. His demeanor suggested a gift for leadership and he noticed when he did not question Astrid's motives but accepted them silently as a waiter set their food down. "Cheeseburger," Altair muttered to himself, staring at the structure in front of him as Astrid snorted out a laugh. Altair admitted that this era had some of the best food he'd ever tasted after polishing off plate.

Astrid frowned when her phone vibrated violently in her pocket. Excusing herself, she noted with some surprise that it was Quincy calling. "Hello?"

"Astrid! Shit! They recognized me. His car is in the parking garage and he was mumbling about his card when the guard noticed me, he recognized me! I need a getaway car," Quincy panted into the phone.

Quincy's voice was loud enough for Altair and Johanssen to hear and glance quickly down the street. Taking a deep breath, Astrid snapped out, "Take mine," and snapped the phone off. "We have to go," she said to Altair.

"Take care. Tell us when you're ready," Johanssen said quickly, dropping a fifty-dollar bill on the table. Johanssen was gone before Astrid was done talking and Altair and Astrid ran out of the bar to see Astrid's car peel down the street, tires squealing against the asphalt as several guards began to chase her. Astrid winced when the car swerved and nearly smashed into a yellow cab. The car disappeared around the corner in a whirl of smoke and screams, hearing the thunderous engine fade as Quincy escaped.

"Assassin!" Altair's head whirled, alerted by the sudden shout, and he saw Abstergo guards pointing directly at himself, recognition plain in their eyes. Astrid gaped briefly at them before allowing Altair to tug her into a run down the street. Hands clasped, they raced the guards, Altair leading through alleyways, their feet pounding into the pavement before a flash caught Astrid's eye.

"Wait!" Astrid cried and this time, she led Altair across the street. They heard Abstergo guards looking and they knew that it wouldn't take long to spot them. Astrid ran up to her discovery and grinned at Altair's astounded face. Her brief moment of triumph evaporated when seven guards poured from the alleyway they'd come from and spotted them instantly.

"What is_ that_?" Altair stared; mesmerized by the sleek design of the motorcycle Astrid straddled. Astrid jammed a short knife into the ignition and turned it, sighing when the beast rumbled to life underneath her.

"It's a mechanical horse, Altair, get on behind me and hold on!" Astrid growled ducking when a shot rang out. Altair complied, wrapping his arms around Astrid's waist, loosely as he remembered her still-tender wound – and sucked in a breath when Astrid kicked the bike to life and it growled under them, jerking forward. They speared through the air as bullets whizzed by and Altair could feel the exhilaration powering throughout his body as Astrid turned sharply, breaking the line of sigh of the guards as she rode, taking the same path Quincy did.

Altair decided he liked this piece of machinery very much.

*********

They rode for nearly an hour, turning randomly as Astrid lost their followers and they made it back to the safe house in one piece. Altair's heart did not stop pounding until he'd gotten off the motorcycle.

"Did you like – ?" Astrid's words were smothered by a pair of soft, familiar but foreign lips that suddenly assaulted her and she barely had time to rationalize who it was before her own body was responding naturally. Her fingers thrust into his hair and her lips parted willingly. The sudden punch of desire left them both breathless and flushed. Astrid's knees were weak and Altair's eyes were darker with a promise that made Astrid's mind stutter and anticipation to grow in her belly.

"Where is Quincy going?" Altair asked flatly, staring at the flush on her cheeks and her overly bright gray eyes as they pierced through him.

"She will pay Delon Myers a visit." Astrid was prepared for him now. Leaving the bike in the garage, her throat rumbled. Tomorrow just got complicated.

* * *

Holy crow! I did not expect to have this chapter up so soon but I started writing three seconds after I posted the fifth chapter. I decided to add some comic relief to this chapter as the next ones will be pretty serious. Like?

Trivia: Astrid's name was originally Cameron.


	7. Infiltration

**Chapter Seven: Infiltration**

Altair could reload Astrid's Magnum without looking now. His fingertips felt the familiar clip and ridge with only a fraction of his concentration. They went through the motions – slip the clip out, discard, grab the loaded new clip, slide in, cock and kill – without thinking about it as his eyes zeroed on the target. He was practicing, and had been at it for nearly three hours, as the mission was to be executed at midnight in Templar territory where they were at the worst disadvantage. Knowing this, Altair, Quincy and Astrid had devised a very simple plan – to turn the environment in their favor as they stormed Abstergo for Desmond. A plan, he knew, that relied on chance, skill and narrow timing to be executed properly. Adrenaline made the detail of the target sharper as the bullets tore through the plastic.

In basement of the safe house, Astrid had shown him the shooting range, one sublevel below, and given him all the pass codes to the small armory at the very rear of the house. Before she'd kissed him and left to store her energy in time for the mission. The armory was located under the garage, accessible only via a small passageway that connected directly to the sublevel and required three pass codes to enter as it stocked with enough firepower to propel a small war. He'd only recognized the handguns and the Magnums that lined the walls but he'd been interested in the others and their sleek, deadly designs had drawn his eye. As he fired, he noticed that the bullets where only widening the first hole he'd made. His aim was true, and he remembered astounding Astrid, several days ago, as he managed to hit all twenty targets in a sixty second timer with only eighteen seconds left in the clock.

"I have something to show you," Astrid's throaty voice stopped him for a few seconds, jolting him into immobility. She could also be a silent owl, he knew, but the line between _assassin_ and _Astrid_ was blurring. The weapon she showed him was thick, short and had three wide barrels – her design, she informed him. Without her telling him, he knew that this weapon could cause massive damage to whoever was unfortunate enough to stand in front of him during their mission. Altair held it out in front of him, arm stretched out and aiming, body leaning slightly backwards as his entire upper body prepared itself for the recoil. He squeezed the trigger and his eyes widened as the target was shredded and pelted into a disfigured form and his arm bent with the recoil of the weapon. The noise – it sounded as if a tank just went off in his ear – reverberated through the small basement and his ears popped.

"That," Astrid motioned to the weapon, voice raised slightly, as she believed she might have gone slightly deaf, "is the Hydra."*

**4:15 PM**

"I know how to fight," Altair growled, trying not to be insulted and outraged at Astrid's comment. After showing him how to reload the Hydra shotgun, he'd taught her a few "old-world" counter attacks with the short blade as she realized she relied mostly on firepower than blades. "You still need to learn how to fight," she grunted out as she deflected Altair's powerful horizontal slash. It had made him pause, and she'd taken advantage by knocking knee to the side and vaulting him to the ground flawlessly.

He watched her stretch, his knee throbbing slightly, still disgruntled at being knocked out so easily. Her legs were splayed out, fingertips curling over her toes as she laid her head on her knees and breathed deeply. In flexibility, he knew, Astrid was better. He wanted to know how she'd flattened him. She was able to move more as her wound was healing quickly, thanks to several Abstergo pharmaceutical drugs – Astrid noticed the obnoxious irony, with a small laugh – and she rose from her pose and lifted her hands for Altair to help her up.

He thought about dumping her on the ground as he lifted her, knowing she'd just laugh, but he lifted her to her feet anyway. The familiarity he felt with her movements struck him once again. Altair knew that developing a relationship with Astrid – images of the last couple of days of preparation bombarded his mind with the sensation of her of her fingers trailing over his back – was unwise with a mission so close. Yet, Altair recalled the honesty of her lips, the trust in her body as she'd curled into his side in their deep sleep. They'd fallen asleep with their clothes on after his first bike ride – their intentions barred by Astrid's wound – both aware that such vigorous activity would hurt her yet their need had been slightly tamed by memorizing her planes and ridges and she, studying his somber expression and serious lips, questioned him about Masyaf. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. A slow, sinister smile spread across Astrid's features and a dark glint in her eyes suddenly made him wary. It was a look he was conditioned to fear.

"You know how to fight," Astrid murmured narrowing her focus on Altair and she mentally readied her body without moving a muscle. "So what would you do if I did this?" Without waiting for Altair to straighten from his relaxed stance or without giving a warning, her leg arced gracefully toward his head, foot pointed and steady. Altair blinked when suddenly, all he saw was her hair whipping around her face before something hard connected with the side of his head and he sprawled to the ground, spots dancing his eyes and stars bursting in his head. Astrid whirled on her other foot as she finished the basic kick, wincing slightly at the tugging on her wound. Altair stared up at her, eyes wide and irritated, mouth pursed as he appraised her body one more time. Aside from beautiful, he added _deadly_.

Astrid held out her hand, a peace offering and smiled a very knowing smile with her head cocked to the side. Altair could feel future bruises from Astrid's imminent "lesson" on his skin already but he was prepared. Both assassins had handles on their bodies that most people would never dream of. Both were aware of where every limb was placed in respect to their core and both knew the amount of power needed to damage an enemy. Altair had his strength, accuracy and intuition and Astrid had speed and agility combined with those. With this knowledge, Altair learned to parry a physical blow, no matter how complicated, with more ease than he expected.

Astrid knew that like most modern lessons she'd have to teach Altair, it was better to launch him into them with no warning as she'd done with the Magnums. An assassin's crucial skill was his ability to adapt and she knew that Altair was a Master at this particular feat.

As Astrid tried, once again, to test Altair's counter attack she was pleased when he improvised. Her right jab had been blocked by his forearm, her shoulder held in a vise-like grip to prevent any further movements and his knee simultaneously connected with her stomach – it was just a tap, really, but Astrid's breath blew out from her lungs anyway as she literally face-planted at his feet.

"Again," Altair smiled a rare smile, one that touched his eyes and made the hazel sparkle. Astrid groaned but vaulted to her feet, crouched and ready to spring – cat versus eagle.

**8:54 PM**

"Holy mother of God, Altair," Astrid gasped as she staggered off the motorcycle, her eyes wide and her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her life as an assassin had made her fear of death dissipate into just a fact, however, Altair, with his two hours of knowledge on how to ride a motorcycle, had terrified Astrid down to her toes. He had executed a perfect one-eighty at such speed and force that Astrid had been certain she was going to fly off the motorcycle and watch her brains fly over the sidewalk. Astrid staggered to the sidewalk and dropped her head between her knees. Altair handled the bike as if was a part of him.

Altair felt he did rather well. Astrid's face was pale and her eyes were huge and slightly panicky. This confirmed Altair's knowledge that didn't do rather well. He had done excellent. He revved the engine and waited for Astrid to sit behind him once again. The time was close and he felt it. The sudden tension in her arms that were wrapped around his waist told him she felt it too.

**9:52 PM**

Altair combed through the black straps that were to fit over his body. The short blade was positioned below his arm as he was used to. The black pants, baggy but tight enough to allow his movements to be undeterred, were snug on his hips as the he secured the thigh holster for the silver Magnum. The long sleeved zip-up shirt with the built in Kevlar fiber was snug on his chest as the shoulder holster for the two Hydras settled on his skin. In front of him, on the other side of the counter, Astrid's tight black pants were somewhat of a distraction as she buckled the heeled, knee-high boots into place.

They stared at the wound on her side briefly before Astrid walked wordlessly up to Altair's still form, a roll of gauze in one hand and scissors on the other. She was shirtless with only a practical black bra and the soiled gauze covering her torso. Astrid lifted her arms and Altair silently cut the gauze from her body, eyes tracing the curve of her waist and the pattern of her stitches. He silently tightened the new gauze – tight enough that her teeth gritted with the pulsing pain that followed – as per her silent request. His lips laid a kiss on her hip before staring at her face.

She looked back, drinking in the features she'd had to memorize again and committed them to memory. _Altaïr Ibn La-Ahad. _

**11:15 PM**

Quincy was seriously considering wiping Delon Myers from the face of the earth. She sat, quietly monitoring his Abstergo network after having knocked him out cold for the seventh time in a row. The Creed and her morals had her gritting her teeth at the idea that she had to do this for another half hour for Sam to arrive to crack the computer wide open. Monitoring the feeds was crucial, she knew, and lack of manpower – womanpower, Quincy thought idly – in their little trio of herself, Altair and her sister had made her – the one usually in the middle of the action – be at the desk job. She swore when a groan, weak and pitiful, came from behind her.

She turned honey-brown eyes towards the man and felt a twinge of regret. This mission would have gone a lot smoother and he would be utterly clueless to her real intentions had her identity not been compromised. Sighing, she loosened the ties she'd bound him with and sat down in front of him. She waited until the eyes fluttered open and focused on her, defiance, which she admired, and fear, which she took advantage of, crossed his face and she smiled coldly. Without hesitating, she spoke, her voice measured and chilling. Her words had their desired effect and soon, Delon Myers was talking.

Less than ten miles from where she sat, Johanssen greeted Astrid and Altair with a small nod. They were stationed in the buildings that surrounded Abstergo, eight sniper rifles already set up and ready.

**11:59 PM**

Samuel, Sam to those of the Brotherhood, typed in the command that would set off the chain of events. His sky-blue eyes studiously examined the screen and his command for errors as he leaned back in the metal chair. His computer – set up barely thirty feet from the Abstergo building in an empty apartment – had hacked into the city's electrical grid, the security detail's database and the Abstergo network through the late Delon Myer's computer. He'd specifically left a portal, a trapdoor, in the network therefore allowing him to hack into their target from any computer – the closer to Abstergo the better. He'd destroyed Myer's system once he'd arrived at the apartment, surprised when he saw that Quincy was gone and Myers was lying in the pool of his own blood, pale and bruised, an expression of excruciating agony on his face.

As he hit Enter, he watched as the command and his virus ate through the firewalls and smiled when the security failed first, unlocking each door to their target. It sputtered lifelessly, clawing to hang on to energy and finally leaving Abstergo wide open for their imminent invasion. He watched the screen flicker a red warning and then saw the success confirmation of his duties – the virus was successful and he tapped the desk before leaping to his feet. Smiling with satisfaction riding high on his shoulders, he watched as the entire building died and became a shaft of darkness. Outside, one entire city block went dark as Sam's virus ate at the electricity system and cut off Abstergo Industries of energy needed to power and lock each and every door to the building.

Astrid stood on the topmost floor of the parking garage that was attached to Abstergo and waited mouthing the seconds knowing that once she and Altair were inside Abstergo, they would have no choice but to climb upwards towards Desmond and Vidic. When the city lights around her blinked off at precisely midnight, Astrid wasted no time, determination settling in her body as she slid the weapon from it's holster. A single bullet shot the doorknob off the metal door and she crashed through, directly into the fifth floor of Abstergo. She wielded two silver weapons, held out as she peered into the dark hallway. The emergency lights powered on – dull, fluorescent and spaced out so far they barely lit up the room – and Astrid took advantage of their flickering to peer around the edge to for guards, counting them as she looked. She waited once again until the lack of energy made the emergency lights flicker off and threw her into pure darkness. Smiling, she stepped out and began to fire.

On the ground, Altair sat astride the sleek black motorcycle and waited. _Now_, he thought. The lights went off as he pushed the door to the building open and he strode in, fearlessly. Altair used Astrid's magnum, the night vision contacts – another technology by Abstergo – made everything glow green, to take out the first few guards. The silencer had served its purpose and Altair rolled behind a post as heavy fire rained around him and bit into the cement column he rested against. Altair waited for the fire to stop, listening intently as the footsteps, unorganized and confused, stepped closer to where he hid. The emergency lights barely flickered until it was pure darkness again and Altair stood, leaning against the post as he looked around. Five guards, whirling in circles, confused and disoriented, their two comrades on the ground, unmoving.

Easy.

He moved silently, holstering the Magnum, his hidden blade with its intricate eagle design spiking out of the metal gauntlet around his wrist as he stealth assassinated the guard closest to him. The blade plunged deep, through the Kevlar and into vulnerable flesh. Altair heard the familiar gurgle of surprise and a failed breath and felt the body go limp as he withdrew the blade and set the guard on the floor. He drew the short blade and silently eliminated the next three guards with the precision of a hunting eagle, wasting no time as his hand found the neck of the last guard and using Astrid's special move, felt bones breaking under his fingers as the guard dropped dead. As Astrid, above him, plunged her blade into the throat of the elevator guard, Altair leveraged the doors to the elevator open and climbed through the fluorescent lights he kicked off the ceiling as Astrid vaulted into the elevator shaft on the opposite side of the building.

Altair climbed, envisioning the ledges of Damascus as he reached, hand over hand, further up the shaft. Astrid fired the hook shot, vaulting, grunting with the strain as she flew through the air, closer and closer to Desmond.

**12:14 AM**

Quincy's blood ran cold as the words left Delon Myer's mouth. He was watching with satisfaction as the cool brunette's tan skin paled and her eyes widened with blank shock as he revealed, gloated the plan. The trap.

"You… needed… her?" Quincy bit out as a cold fury chilled her voice and her eyes hardened. She was no longer beautiful in the warm summer way. The fury made her edges seem sharper, a cold cruel beauty as she drilled her gaze into Delon's face and her vision grew a red tint as her fists morphed into claws.

"And you're going to walk right into it," Delon's voice cracked, the cramps from having his arms tied over his head still pulsating through his arms as her glared through teary eyes at the brunette. The lethal aura returned to Quincy as she stood, slowly, and looked down at Delon through expressionless eyes.

"You are no longer an innocent," Quincy stated, matter-of-factly, her heart hardening to frost as she voided all remorse from her being. A coldness welled from her very core and spread through her fingertips.

"No, I am not," he answered, smirking, truly believing that he had the upper hand.

"This means I can kill you. And I'll sleep like a baby." Delon's perception was too slow to catch the brunette's lethal movements but suddenly, there was a blade pressing against his spine and her breath was on his neck. He shivered, a sudden coldness rushing over him.

"You are going to feel everything," Quincy whispered and slowly moved the blade into his sensitive flesh.

**12:25 AM**

"Hurry, Sam!" Astrid whispered urgently, bouncing on her heels as Sam connected the small generator to a smoke machine. The device was Sam's invention, designed to flood extremely large areas – in this case just five floors – with a gas that was meant to drop any person that gets a whiff of the neurotoxin. As it relied on electricity, Sam hauled the small generator into the vent and sent a glare over at Astrid.

"I'm working, hold the light still!" Sam ordered and Astrid held her arm still as she looked down the hallway, ignoring the bodies they'd created when they'd eliminated the guards. Astrid checked her clips, slightly concerned at the amount of bullets left. She'd tried, like she knew Altair would, to use her knives and short blade as she dealt with her targets but her gun was instinctual, she fired when the face was a stranger's face.

"Alright, it's set up. Go, I got the rest of them," Sam said as he synchronized the device to the small trigger in his cell phone.

Astrid nodded and hurried down the hallway, taking the second generator the elevator on the right. As she slammed the knife in the small crevice between the elevator doors to squeeze between them, Altair rolled onto the fifteenth floor, grunting as his shoulder absorbed his weight. He was aware that at this part of the plan they would no longer have to take out any more guards as Sam's device should take care of that. They also had limited time, as Sam's virus would only work for so long – fifty-five minutes – and the electricity would return.

They needed the darkness, Altair realized, when a flashlight shone directly where he had been a moment ago. In the Abstergo building, they would have been slaughtered without second thought and without a chance. Altair kept low as he ran towards the elevator, trusting Astrid's speed and punctuality as he approached. He didn't question her when the light that signaled the elevator was arriving flashed and the door squeaked open and her tense face peeked out. He felt relief crash down on his shoulders as he wedged himself between the doors and Astrid pulled on his arm to yank him into the large elevator as the elevator began to rise.

"Hurry, we've got power for only a few more floors – Damn!" Astrid cursed as the generator sputtered and grew quiet and they were once again plunged into utter darkness.

**12:34 AM**

"Move!" Quincy shrieked, her heart pounding in her chest as she slammed her foot on the brake. _Trap, trap, trap_, whirled through her mind as she barreled onto the sidewalk, speeding towards the safe house not caring when screams saturated the air as she narrowly missed the civilians crowding the sidewalk. She drove the small car to its limit as the tires squealed when she turned onto the street where the safe house, empty and dark, sat.

A steady panic pulsed violently under the forced assassin calmness as she ripped her weapons off the armory and Astrid's hook shot and she grabbed the long .50 rifle, its length equaled her height, and shoved in the stolen car. The panic receded as she climbed the building she knew Johanssen was stationed and dumped the .50 at his feet.

"It's a trap. They want – they want Astrid," Quincy gasped out, her frenzied movements unstoppable as she fired the hook shot, two floors directly above Desmond. Swearing, Johanssen fired his rifle as Quincy speared through the air, flying over the street, shattering the window she somersaulted through. He tried not to panic as gunfire flashed the second she disappeared into the building.

********

Astrid paused and regressed to stand beside Altair as he nodded down the perpendicular hallway they'd passed. As she followed his gaze, she noticed the hallway ended in a large circular door, made of gleaming titanium.

"A vault," Astrid murmured and in the semi darkness, they could see the ten bolts that kept the door secure along with the biometric access pad on the right. She was coming to the same conclusions as Altair as they studied the impressive steps taken to guard whatever was inside. Instinct, his sixth sense was clawing at him to step closer, to find out what was inside the vault. Unknown to him, he'd begun to move toward the vault and Astrid followed, also feeling the pull of whatever was inside. As they stepped closer, Astrid was sure that she would not be able to crack the vault by herself with the tools she had. She knew only Sam could break into the biometric access pad.

"Don't move." The harsh voice had her freezing as an arm curled over her upper arms, trapping her upper body and felt the cold steel of a slick knife against her throat. Altair whirled at the sound of the voice and Astrid's gasp. His pulse sped up as he reacted without thinking, his fingertips seeking the slender metal of one of the few remaining throwing knives and watched it, almost in slow motion, flit through the air, through Astrid's hair and into her attacker's face. Astrid jolted as soon as the knife disappeared from her throat, her curved short blade already in her hands, and whirled, slicing horizontally, through the Kevlar, and into flesh. As the guard staggered, Altair drew his own blade, and finished the guard off without hesitation.

"Altair," she whispered, tense, as she counted the guards that had silently followed them into the dead end. She whirled when the vault door hissed open and more guards streamed out, dressed with less padding and Kevlar than the others. No guns, Astrid observed, inwardly groaning as her fingers tightened on the hilt of the short blade, knowing that this brawl was going to tear up her wound more as she knew it was already bleeding.

Altair twirled the knife between in his fingers, a slight smirk on his features as he held the blade before him, in a defensive stance, his back to Astrid, who echoed his stance, facing the opposite direction.

The fact that they were funneled in the hallway was good as far as tactical defense went, Altair knew and Astrid's grey gaze calculated as the guards stepped closer to her. Altair's brief 'old-world' moves flooded her as she took a quick step forward, trying not to be distracted by the sound of a knife battle behind her, and watched as the guard, startled out of his own defensive stance and slashed horizontally, leaving himself exposed. It was the opening Astrid sought and she gripped the black fabric tight, pulling the guard closer to her and plunged the knife twice into his chest before tossing the lifeless body at the rest of the guards.

Altair grunted as he blocked the diagonal slash and ducked as another blade whistled through the air, millimeters above his head, and he fiercely kicked the knee of the offending guard, hearing the crunch of a dislocated knee and a guttural howl of pain above him. He rolled, tacking the guard he'd disabled, slamming hidden blade into his flesh in one fluid movement.

"Kill him and get her!" The bark was unnervingly close those him. It startled him and he paused, knowing the only 'her' in the vicinity was Astrid. Realization hit him as he whirled to seek her out in the hallway. He looked past the guards as the command also surprised her and he watched as her eyes left her target and met his. The guard she'd been parrying with took advantage of her surprise to plant a brutal kick to Astrid's stomach, sending her flying backwards into the vault. He realized the guards' plan as he saw the space and guards between them – to separate them. Altair blocked a blow instinctively, his attention ripped from Astrid's form as she leapt to her feet, face pale as she felt several stitches rip from her skin and her wound split open again.

She was in the vault, aware that the thick door was open before her as the guards approached to capture her. She took a step back, ready to retain her defensive stance and stopped when her heel connected with something. She quickly looked behind her, her mind registering what rested on the pedestal, before she threw her knife on the flood and pulled out of both Magnums. Her heart thudded in her throat as she fired, feeling the presence of the artifact behind her as she mowed down the guards. While Altair dealt with the guards, Astrid drew the small black sack with the shoulder strap and slipped the surprisingly light silver orb inside.

She turned in time to see Altair knocked to the ground and roll out of the way as a guard stabbed downward with his knife. Growling, Astrid aimed and fired.

"Go, Astrid!" Altair yelled as she decimated most of the guards but her gun clicked empty. Nodding grimly, Astrid cartwheeled past the remaining guards, surprising them to give Altair a chance, and ran down the hallway to the stairs. Desmond was only a floor above them and she felt it in her heart that something was wrong. Biting her lip as she hurried up the stairs, knowing that Altair was soon returning, she burst into the last hallway and jolted when a snap cracked through the air and the window next to the wall shattered and he slammed against the wall, dead. Johanssen looked up from the .50 rifle, satisfied as his group picked their targets and cleared the path for Astrid.

Sam noted that fifty-five minutes had passed when he set up the last smoke machine and the lights flickered on, highlighting his presence to the formerly oblivious guards. Sighing, not flinching at the sudden shouts, he rolled away from the gunfire that suddenly rained above him. Lifting the automatic machine gun from one of the guard's he'd killed he peeked around the corner.

**12:57 AM**

Astrid was well aware that if she didn't fire soon her arms would begin to shake in her efforts to keep them steady and trained into Vidic's face. He stared at her sweating, pale face and at the bodies of the two guards with a perverse sort of satisfaction. It pushed her and she, after a deep breath, stilled her body as the refocused on Vidic's forehead – but very subtly looked at Desmond. He seemed to vibrate with tension as his hand as curled over Lucy's arm and his jaw clenched as he looked back at her.

"Miss Castillo." Astrid bared her teeth at Vidic when he used her real name. "I was wondering when you'd come to us. Keith did his job well… and you didn't disappoint."

"Shoot him!" Desmond barked but Lucy's conflicted expression made her pause.

"What do you want, Vidic?" Astrid snarled, mind scrambling as she wondered where Sam and Altair were. Her shoulders began to ache with the tension and her wound with the ripped flesh, torn stitches and her newly bruised flesh bled freely, stinging as the fabric sunk into her raw flesh.

"What I want – what _we,_ you and me, want is something very similar, no?" He was stalling, Astrid sensed and felt the adrenaline power her further but as much as she wanted to pull the trigger and finish him off, she couldn't. The timing wasn't right, her instinct told her; this isn't how it's supposed to end. _I'd just be killing a pawn_, Astrid thought.

Vidic's smile widened at the same second Desmond closed his eyes and Astrid felt the cold steel press against the back of her skull. Her peripheral vision told her: six guards, split down the middle, three on her left side, three on her right, their guns pointed at her head. She gritted her teeth at the sudden turn of events, as she no longer had the upper hand.

"Astrid!" She couldn't turn to see Quincy stagger in, bleeding, gun shaking in her hand as she tried to find a target. Quincy's vision, already hazy, took in the guards around Astrid and her stomach dropped with dread. The trap, Quincy moaned in her mind, had already been sprung. Vidic's expression hardened as he studied Quincy's trembling form.

"You must be Miss Castillo's sister," Vidic disregarded her as his prize was already in the room. He gave a slight nod, an unspoken order, and Astrid jerked when three shots rang out behind her and she heard the sound of Quincy's familiar weight hitting the floor, limp. Lucy clapped her hands over her mouth as the blood fell from Astrid's face and her mouth slacked open. Her hands trembled and she fought the urge to turn and run to Quincy's side.

Two groups of guards – so conveniently placed at Astrid's sides – and Altair reached with both hands over his shoulders to draw the two Hydras. He remained hidden from Vidic, Lucy and Desmond's view by the guards around Astrid but the click of the two shotguns cocking alerted them. He held them out, arms outstretched, one Hydra for each group, knowing that they stood no chance against the weapons he wielded at point blank range. His eyes scanned Vidic, enemy, Lucy and lastly the tall man with a scar on his mouth that stared back at him. The eyes, Altair noted, were the exact same color his had been. Astrid risked a look back at Altair's bruised face, reading the triumph of change, and returned to face Vidic. _Status quo_, Astrid thought grimly, as Vidic's face grew pale. Altair's triumph was marred by the weak rattle of breath from Quincy, who curled up on her side, leaving blood on the slick floor.

"Don't you understand, Astrid?" Vidic snapped, glaring at her pale face. There were too many players – Astrid, Quincy, Desmond, himself, Abstergo and Altair – the balance kept shifting and it was currently in their favor. "It's you we want. Desmond's ancestor took us close… but _your_ ancestor… he _knew_."

Astrid frowned, eyes flickering towards the other dscendant but kept silent as Desmond spoke the words in her mind. "_Her_ ancestor? What hell are you talking about?"

Vidic laughed humorlessly, eyes intent on Astrid's movements. "Altair Ibn La-Ahad was a warrior, an assassin. Malik, on the other hand… he was more the scholar of the pair as he was the one that studied the Pieces. He determined their hiding places. He _knew_!" The last word was nearly a yell as Vidic's determination skewed him further as he glared ravenously at Astrid.

"What are you saying?" Astrid bit out, his words opening doors in her mind. Could it be...?

"Malik is your ancestor, girl, their real locations are in your DNA!" Vidic shouted as Astrid and Altair froze. _Target_, Altair recalled from Keith's profile, _Astrid had been Vidic's target. _

"In my DNA?" Astrid asked quietly, her eyes trained on Vidic's face as she reached behind her and lifted the silver orb she'd taken from the vault – the Piece of Eden – and held its light weight on the palm of her hand, smiling at the horrified look on Vidic's face. She took measured steps backwards until her back connected with Altair's chest and she was out of range of the Hydras. Altair, eyes on Vidic, pulled the trigger the second Desmond yanked Lucy to the floor and he watched the groups of guards fall nearly four feet away, shattered by the firepower.

Simultaneosly, Astrid reached and grabbed for Quincy's custom Magnum – its barrel was nearly a foot long and it housed bullets thick enough and powerful enough to shatter a tree trunk. She pointed it at the orb and watched Vidic's eyes bulge at her actions.

"Go." Altair looked at Desmond who was still shielding Lucy. He met Desmond's uncharacteristically somber look with his own calculating one. Astrid glanced at him, surprised, but she held onto the opening he gave them, as Quincy's breathing was growing weaker.

"One wrong move, Vidic…" Astrid tapped the orb with the barrel threateningly. They knew the orb was a part of their plan but until they knew what it was, Astrid was taking no chances.

"I've got het," Sam's strangled voice said from behind them as he hurried to Quincy's side, lifting her into his arms as they backed away, into the hallway with two of Vidic's prizes.

"The elevator," Sam said through gritted teeth as Quincy moaned weakly. Astrid held onto control as they rushed into the elevator and she yanked the trigger for the smoke device from Sam's pants, setting it off so they could have a clear way to the outside. The elevator was fast but Astrid took the time to examine Quincy as it dropped from the near topmost floor to the ground level. There was a flesh would on her arm but the bullet hole in her shoulder was the one with the most damage as the Kevlar had absorbed most of the bullets. Astrid ripped Quincy's sleeve off and tied it around her shoulder to stop the bleeding as the elevator dinged open and they spilled out into the lobby, past the guard's Altair had killed into the street where Johanssen waited with a black SUV. Sam and Quincy climbed into the back, sending pale looks at Astrid who straddled the motorcycle behind Altair.

"We need to find the other Pieces," Altair murmured as they followed the speeding SUV to the hospital.

"Yes. We need to pack," Astrid said, her voice low though Altair heard her clearly over the roar of the motorcycle.

"Are we traveling?" Altair questioned, turning away from the SUV and taking a familiar route to the safe house. Both felt the failure of their mission - Desmond was still with them - but they realized that Abstergo's possession of Desmond was a puzzle piece to the bigger picture. They needed them exactly where they were to find out and destroy the Templar's plans.

"Yes. We are going to France."

* * *

AN: This chapter was actually a little difficult to write. There were way to many things going on at once and way too many people to focus on, I realized, when I tried to write this straight through like all my other chapters but that was taking longer and longer and I needed to try to convey the urgency of what was happening by shifting from one place to the other unexpectedly. Nonetheless, I like how it turned out.

* The Hydra is actually a fictional shotgun (fictional to my knowledge, anyway) found in RE5.

Review!


	8. Soaring

Before I start I'd like to give a huge flipping hug to my reviewers. That's right. You rock.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Soaring**

"Don't look so sad, Sam, she's not dead," Astrid said quietly, over her shoulder. Sam and Altair hovered behind her, Sam giving Astrid a tired look that betrayed by the deep shadows under his eyes, and Altair studying the quiet competence of the private hospital. He had brief flashes of Garnier de Naplouse in Acre and his "hospital" as well as his own actions against the man. He recalled the putrid scent that rose from his patients and the words he'd spoken to Altair before he died. It was quite a contrast to the white and blue maze of a low building. The smell disinfectant and the separate rooms that gleamed seemed appropriate to Altair. The private hospital was funded by the Brotherhood, he'd learned, which served as a 'cloaking' fact as no one asked questions as to why Quincy was shot or why they'd arrived at the ER in head-to-toe black with empty holsters around them.

Astrid led them to the room at the end of the hallway on the second floor, pushing the door open gently, leaving it open for the two men to follow. Altair registered how deathly pale she was, knowing that wounds like the ones she'd suffered would have meant a slow death in his time. Her shoulder was bandaged and there was a small plastic device on her finger that was connected to a plastic bag of clear fluid. The affection he felt for Quincy was like the reluctant affection siblings of opposite sexes had for the other… like the small affection he'd felt for Malik as a brother. He noticed her thick sable hair was limp and dull. He watched Astrid's face light up as Quincy's eyes fluttered open and she gazed blearily at the ensemble in her room.

Altair picked up the chart that dangled from the clip at the bottom of the bed and Sam hovered over his shoulder, intent on what the chart conveyed. The terms were unfamiliar to Altair, but he understood the concept "Critical" in context when applied to a wounded assassin – it simply meant she was out of the game for a while. His gaze landed on the name in the chart, close to the top. He'd glazed over it, not realizing that Quincy was her cover name. "Lily Beth Solomon," he read and looked at Astrid's startled gaze and then at Quincy, a frown on his face. "Why Quincy?"

"Do I _look_ like a _flower_ to you?" Quincy croaked out, glad to see Sam throw his head back with a quick laugh and Altair's lips twitch with amusement that was reflected in his eyes. Her quip fell on Astrid whose smile widened before her gaze connected with Quincy's eyes.

Astrid's smile faded as she stared her sister's haggard, pale face and the gnawing knowledge that her only acknowledged and loved sibling could have died rose and turned into red-hot fury. "You win the award for stupidity. What the hell were you thinking, Quincy? You went in alone!?" Astrid's voice rose into a yell as she spoke and Quincy cringed back from Astrid's words, seeing the truth in them. In retrospect, she was aware that running into Abstergo by herself, barely armed and not even close to protected was the stupidest thing she could have done. She'd acted out of pure panic after learning of Vidic and Keith's plan to lure Astrid into Abstergo so they could abduct her and had not thought her plans through. They might have even gotten Desmond out had she sat her butt by the rifle and torn Vidic apart by herself.

"I know –," Quincy tried to wheeze out but Astrid drowned her out. Sam's hand gripped Astrid's elbow but she shook him off without a second thought – her focus only on Quincy.

"Damn it, Quincy, you know better. You're better than that. Between us – God! – I could have lost you!" Astrid bellowed finally getting the real source of her anger out – the immobilizing fear she'd been drowning in until Quincy's heartbeat had regulated and she'd been taken off life-support. The recognition of the origin of her anger was sufficient to quench it and suddenly deflated but needing the anger she strode to Quincy's side, staring down at the honey-brown eyes – their entire history splayed out between them – from the first time they met and Astrid, seven at the time, had tackled the two years older Lily Beth Solomon, the arch nemesis who wanted to steal her mother in her child mind, to the ground shrieking war and hell to the moment where Astrid sensed Quincy's battered body pelted with bullets and the burning pain she'd felt as her sister dropped to the ground, unmoving. A strangled sob worked up her throat but she swallowed it, her fists clenched.

"I'm sorry," Quincy groaned, shaking her head. Both women had grown together and in the process had grown to become like vines – twining around the other, completely inseparable and Quincy felt it intensify.

"Astrid," Sam warned but Astrid was deflated. Altair watched the wordless communication between the sisters closely. Thought Quincy was twenty-four, the elder, it was Astrid who seemed to hold a silent leadership between the two. He recalled having the same relationship with Malik, after Al Mualim's death. Though his memories were blurry, somehow static – something that he'd yet to talk to Astrid about – he could recall the reformation of the Brotherhood. The few who were not influenced by Al Mualim had become closer. The distance between social and assassin ranks had closed significantly during the years after the Piece of the Eden – he was certain.

"Stupid," Astrid said softly, a small smile on her face.

"You know it," Quincy admitted, grinning up at her before looking at the group confusedly. "Wait, aren't you supposed to be in France or Romania or something?" The demand had Altair straightening. He didn't know the details of their trip to France – only that in the atlas he'd discovered at the safe house, they were across the entire ocean and that Sam was arranging everything for them.

"We ran into a snag," Sam explained as he sat next to Altair. Technology seemed to have its drawbacks, Altair thought disapprovingly at the understated explanation.

"Snag?" Quincy frowned. She hated being out of the loop – which was understandable since she'd been out cold for nearly four days.

"Yes, Vidic used Keith's profiles to make us world-wide enemies. We're on Interpol's hit list as well as nearly every agency in the world knows our faces, our passports, all of our identities – except Altair's. We need to lay low until Sam gives us new forgeries so we can travel. In the mean time we're public enemy number one. Imagine that." Astrid lifted an eyebrow to show that she was more annoyed than perturbed at Vidic's actions. She'd expected some form of retaliation from Abstergo – but nothing to this scale. Their faces were everywhere. Hers, Altair's – though he'd been labeled "accomplice" – Quincy's and even Sam's faces were known everywhere as murderers. They were on the news. Though they didn't necessarily need paperwork to fly, they needed that when they were on the ground and moving around.

"He's making it impossible for us to get to where they've transferred Desmond," Sam complained.

Altair's mind flashed to the face, the man, he'd seen at Abstergo. He'd been struck, literally, by the ridiculous resemblance in build and in face. He could have passed off for Altair's brother with the short, curly black brown hair and intense brown eyes however, he'd recognized that Desmond did not grow in the way of the assassins yet the intensity of his gaze had been unwavering. He'd seen that Desmond's potential rose above others. According to what Astrid and Lucy had gathered, the worlds' beckon had been a stronger pull for Desmond than the call of the Brotherhood. He couldn't blame his descendant – in this particular time.

"France, right?" Quincy coughed and winced. She hated being helpless. More than that, she hated being stuck the hospital with a hole in her shoulder stopping her from aiding Altair and Astrid.

"We believe so. Altair?"

"The Piece of Eden has the locations to the others – thought it hasn't opened. One in England, Italy, France among other countries," Altair explained, recalling the memory vividly, still frustrated at the memory blocks that stopping him from seeing what happened next.

"Hmm. That reminds me," Sam muttered, reaching into computer case and pulling out a number of items clutched in his hand. "Astrid and Altair."

"What are these?" Altair questioned, examining the small blue booklet, no longer surprised at the small, neat print or the photo of his own face. Though the technology still baffled him to the point of desperately wishing for a doorway back to his own time, he was meant to stay.

"That's your passport, your ID – identification – and a motorcycle license. Fake, of course, but it should keep them off you after you land." Sam watched Altair literally inhale the passport and IDs. Astrid, on the other hand was smiling at her fake passport. "_Altair l'Ahad_?" he questioned, lifting his gaze to meet Sam's.

"You needed to some authenticity." The man shrugged.

"You switched my name around. I like it."

****

Altair showered. He stood in the glass tub; face tilted towards the showerhead, letting the warm water splash his face relentlessly. He usually did not feel exhausted at the end of the day since he was a nocturnal person at heart, but he realized he was just mentally exhausted from the radical transformation of the world and that he was forced to experience it. It only made him slightly uncomfortable to be baffled by his surrounding – though Astrid was making his transition exponentially easy, everything was too different.

He automatically tensed when he heard the door squeak open and Astrid's scent washed over him like an intoxicating wave. "Altair? We have to leave in an hour." Her voice was hesitant and he sensed her uncertainty when it came to him. He really couldn't blame her. When he didn't know what to do about his emotions for her, he wasn't exactly making it easy for her either.

"I'll be out," he responded and tried to quell his disappointment when she closed the door silently. He briefly tried to think of what to call whatever it was they had between them and failed. With the towel wrapped around his hips as he scoured for something to wear – he somehow found himself not missing the thick white tunic he'd worn like a second skin during his first life. Nonetheless, it took him a minute to figure out the plain black button shirt and dark jeans and he used one of his throwing knives to carefully shave the growing stubble on his jaw. Staring at himself in the mirror, he went over his features one more time. In his time, mirrors weren't smooth and flawless but he'd had an idea of what he'd looked like.

Altair frowned and leaned closer, examining the color of his eyes and hair before yanking the door open to face Astrid, with her fist raised as if to knock. Her mouth opened slightly as she looked in surprise at the sudden movement. "Altair -? Wha-?"

"Look a me," he ordered gruffly, hands landing on her shoulders. Had she been a weaker woman she might have tumbled from the strength of his touch.

"What?" Astrid cocked her head to the side at the sight of his jaw clenching, confused.

Dragging her into the bathroom, where the lights were brighter, turned his entire body towards her and watched as her eyes crawled over his face, confused at first but then realization dawning, she leaned closer, placing her palms on his chest as she stared in awe. "Your eyes are brown."

"Yes. They were green with hazel."

Blinking, Astrid realized what he meant with the focus on the changes of his features. His eyes had darkened in color so profoundly that it was unnatural and impossible. Her eyes wandered to his hair, it had been a brown, like the color of tree bark and now it was black and slightly curly. Astrid felt the texture, it had once been soft and now it was the coarse texture of curly men's hair. "I'll see if I can find Lucy," Astrid said quietly, backing away from him. Or she would have if his arms hadn't clamped do harder on her arms. Her mouth fell slightly open as her belly quivered at the blazing look on his face. In the uncharted territory of their relationship, Astrid couldn't think. She could only respond to the pulling in her navel, fisting her hands in his shirt and puling his shoulders towards her, her chin tilted upwards.

The kiss felt like she was meeting a very pleasant electric current that poured itself from his mouth to her entire body. Completely forgetting that she was a twenty-two year old woman and not a hormonal teenager, she plunged her hands into his hair and yanked him closer. The growl that rumbled in his throat did nothing to dissipate the sudden energy that pumped itself into them and propelled him to crush her to his chest. He literally felt his brain click off when she rose on her toes and licked the roof of his mouth. Her chest felt like she was soaring breathlessly through the air.

The shrieking of Astrid's phone caused her to stumble back, eyes wide her chest rising and falling rapidly. Altair snapped his gaze to the offending device, intent on crushing the device to sand under his feet when Astrid snatched it up, face red and hands trembling. "Speak of the devil," Astrid murmured, looking embarrassedly at Altair, fingertips unconsciously brushing her swollen lips as she hit the speaker button. "Lucy?"

"Yes, its me," her voice was hushed and it sounded as if she spoke from a metal box. Astrid's mind was buzzing from the contact.

"Are you alright?" Altair's concentration was centered on Astrid and the phone. The mention of Lucy brought back what they were formerly talking about. His hand ran through his hair once more, feeling the familiar texture of his real hair. He leaned forward while he urged his nerves to calm down.

"I'm fine. I think Vidic's just about to lose his mind. After you guys…even the guards are a little wary of him," Lucy explained and the strain was audible in her voice. Altair and Astrid gritted their teeth at the mention of Vidic. "Listen, I managed to hack into Vidic's email with the access pen Desmond stole. I sent the data over to Johanssen and he's going to get it to you when you arrive."

"Okay, thanks Lucy."

"Lucy, there's something happening." Altair felt strange talking to the device.

"I know. I assumed it would begin to happen about now. Your eyes and hair have changed, haven't they? It's just a side effect of your transition into the body. Like the Bleeding Effect, I think, only its physical." Altair and Astrid glanced at each other in surprise. "Look, when your DNA, Altair, replaced Keith's, it meant that the building blocks are taking a different set of orders. Keith's DNA told his body to make his eyes green but yours makes yours brown and your hair black, which explains that darkening of your eye and hair color. I don't believe you'll see any drastic changes as Keith's body is already built but as time passes you might." Most of it made sense to Altair who took this information and dissected it – though the technical terms eluded him and Astrid, who attempted to recall her high school bio class before frowning.

"Is it degenerative?" Altair's pensive form tensed when Lucy did not speak.

"I really cannot say. As far as knowledge, research and process go, this is completely new. All the other subjects they attempted this with failed. Your process was the only successful case." Lucy lowered her voice until it was a whisper.

"How may cases?" Altair asked, once again calm.

"So far only eight, but Vidic is getting desperate. They've been trying to perfect it so… they can bring Malik into Astrid." Lucy's voice was apologetic. Astrid turned away. They have been purposely avoiding the topic of Vidic's exposure of Astrid's heritage. Altair turned his piercing gaze towards Astrid and saw her face next to Malik's and he could make a connection. She became more real to him – no longer a lethal woman from the future whose presence he was helplessly drawn to but as a woman with a connection to the person he had been during the third crusade. Their relationship as no longer strangely disjointed but smooth as the distance between their lives closed.

His fingertips brushed chin and turned her to face him. Her breath caught in her throat as the look of pure unadulterated concentration – only on her – on his features. They were caught – his brown piercing her gray and her gray melting into his brown and they felt the spring between them contract.

"You're going to miss your flight."

Altair flung the phone across the room.

* * *

AN: I felt like I needed to focus more on the characters as all the previous chapters have been back to back action. This might have been updated sooner had I not been completely distracted by Sims 3 (I actually ended up making Astrid, Altair and Quincy Sims, haha) and the Assassin's Creed Twitter Experience deal.

Review!


	9. Travels

**Chapter Nine: Travel**

Astrid was once again, impressed at the rock steady Altair that stepped from the private plane. She, being airplane-phobic, had spent the entire trip with a greenish tint to her face and curled up on the seats with the closest proximity to the bathroom, hands clutching at his arm whenever the plane shook with turbulence. Thought he too had been unnerved by the idea of "flying" to France, since he much preferred ships, he found that he was rather steady on the air. Unlike Astrid, who stumbled off the plane, her red wig flopping to the ground as she doubled over and rested her palms on her knees and drew in alarmingly fast-paced breaths that sounded like she was trying to suffocate herself with air.

"Are you alright?" Altair asked, picking up the red wig had fallen from her hair. He didn't like fake hair, he decided. Shuddering, Astrid straightened, looking relatively better now that they were on the ground. Though she'd been to France several times – targeting Templars – she'd always made time for the country. She smiled, the clammy look to her face was nearly gone as she snatched the wig from his fingertips and adjusted it on her head. Seeing as every agency in the world had their faces under scrutiny Astrid felt it would be useful to hide in plain sight. "A blade in the crowd," Altair had said and he studied her transformation to a civilian with interest. Her dark hair made her stand out in the crowd, combined with her tan skin and eyes, she was bound to make people look, however with the red hair, a color Altair found strange-looking on anyone, she turned into a woman. A girl.

She carried the small duffel bag to the small terminal. They'd arranged to land at a private airfield – but even then they still had to go through Customs. Altair had his passport and ID in a black wallet – he'd laughed when he saw the Brotherhood's symbol on it – in his back pocket and he was slightly baffled when Astrid had opted for a short white sundress and black sandals and absolutely no weapons.

"Where are your knives?" Altair had asked when she slipped the dress over her head, briefly studying her form – feminine but he could no longer see her as frail, even though her wound was angry and purple – and seeing her free of any sort of weapon. She had smiled.

"We're civilians at the moment, Altair, what do normal people need knives for?" She winked at him and turned, revealing the skin-colored band that held a slender, small knife and two throwing stars close to her skin, right below the swell of her buttocks before it vanished from view, hidden by the sheer fabric of the dress.

He'd hidden his throwing knives on his stomach, using a special sheath fashioned for him only that felt as if he wore nothing. Only when he sat and felt the metal did he realize he as armed. His arm felt strangely light without the hidden blade.

The terminal was strange, even to Astrid, who felt as if she'd just walked into a cigar room. The dark green carpet stretched from wall to wall, kept well and clean, and the wooden counters, ornate and beautiful. It didn't look like anything that belonged anywhere near any airport. The contrast to the sleek computers was startling, juxtaposed and only made the room have an awkward feel. They walked, side by side; to the small counter looking all like the 'honey-mooning couple' they were supposed to be. Astrid fumbled inside the black purse – fully aware that if she squeezed the tube of lipstick, she'd blow herself, and Altair in the process, to pieces. Pulling out the passport, smiling when Altair already had his in hand, she presented it to the bland man at the counter.

"_Vous appellez Schuyler Astrid Harvard_? _Et vous? Altair la Ahad?"_ The man's rapid Southern French was an ear sore to Altair, whose Arabic mother tongue had been melodic, and he watched as Astrid's smile faded slightly. She responded in a torrent of smooth French, smiling happily and leaning on his arm. She gestured to Altair once who caught the embarrassed flush in the man's face as the sign than Astrid was playing up their cover story. The man's eyes flickered towards his face as he held both passports before stamping then – rather quickly.

Astrid let out a peal of laughter, one Altair had never heard before and he smiled without thinking about it. She was grinning up at him her faux-brown eyes gleaming. She looked like an entirely different person. For the sake of appearances – his mind chortled at the excuse – he threw an arm around her shoulder as they strolled out of the building and into the fresh Parisian sunlight. He was instantly struck by the subtleness of the city – the undertone of elegance was rather intimidating to him as he was used to village-life and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't grow comfortable in the city.

He looked down at his passport. "It seems obscene that all this information is available to anyone who searches for it," he commented and Astrid nodded. He was actually irritated when he realized he had to submit his age – he had no idea how old he was in this body – his height – it turns out he was only three inches taller – and that he'd been assigned a _number_ – all of which he considered private data.

"It makes out job harder – but there are ways around the system," Astrid shrugged and Altair made a non-committal noise. Of course it wouldn't bother her; she belonged here, Altair thought, as they approached a simple, black SUV. Astrid walked around the vehicle once before doubling to check the underside. She came up smiling. "Looks like our welcome present is here."

"Welcome present?"

"The Brotherhood has been here," Astrid said softly, hand resting on the hood of the car. Altair only had to look once before he caught the small symbol, the ornate 'A', near the side view mirror and he stepped closer and it faded. "It's light sensitive. You can see it only from a certain angle." Altair shifted and the symbol wavered into view again as Astrid unlocked the doors and slid inside. Because he preferred motorcycles and they had 'luggage' they drove the SUV into the heart of the city, barely twenty minutes away.

In the heart of Paris, Astrid maneuvered the large car into a small road, upwards, very slowly. Leaning forward, trying to remember where exactly…

"Is that it?" Altair asked, pointing to the very nondescript building, cream colored with beautiful vines creeping up the side, about fifty feet on Altair's right. He counted the number of ledges and windows with a raised eyebrow.

"I think so," Astrid muttered. "I usually never check into the Bureau when I have a target. I was in there once when I was nineteen." The sudden, surprising information had Altair's head swiveling in her direction. Her focused gaze as she turned into a smaller road – Astrid was sure that if she stuck her arm out the window she would be able to touch the wall with her palm – told him she was not aware of what she had just shared with him. Altair studied her once more. So she'd been young – as he'd been – when she joined the Brotherhood.

Altair, who could not remember much of his youth, knew only that he had been a follower of the Creed for as long as he could remember with a hidden blade at his side. He unconsciously held onto his wrist as Astrid stopped and flipped a switch on the dashboard, tapping the wheel, and waiting. They both stopped when a garage door began to rumble open, directly ahead of them and Astrid eased forward on the bricked road, nibbling on her lip as she pulled into the garage.

Wordlessly, Altair stepped out of the car, shutting the door as Astrid locked the car. Glancing upwards, Altair saw a familiar wooden, vine covered grille above as the small, closed in area had no ceiling – and no door. He saw only a fountain and that the entire wall was covered in carvings that jutted from the wall artistically as well and practically, as he saw the pattern to the carvings. Astrid spared a glance at her dress and sandals, then to Altair, who had practically seen her naked and dismissed the sudden, teenage apprehension as she climbed onto the fountain and found her footing. Altair stood still; watching as she deftly vaulted, reached and climbed her way up, white dress fluttering around her legs, eyes lingering on the strip of white fabric that covered what he'd yet to…

Altair shook himself before leaping lightly onto the fountain behind her, catching up to her progress within minutes and surpassing her in seconds and climbing onto the roof. Astrid huffed as Altair reached down and gripped her wrists, pulling her up effortlessly and dropping her before him, a lopsided smile on his face. Astrid blushed.

"Astrid?" The French accent had Altair's back tensing – the memory of Robert de Sable all too clear in his memory. Instead, he saw a rather small girl, barely sixteen, crouching on top of a post. Her deep brown eyes were trained on Astrid as she peered around Altair's back.

"Well, well, if it isn't little Josette." Astrid held out her arms as if to expect a hug but the teenager stared somberly at her before flicking her gaze to Altair. He was not surprised to see a small dagger on her calf. The girl's eyes did not leave his face when she spoke. Astrid's arms dropped to her sides as a frown curled her lips.

"They're waiting for you downstairs," Josette mumbled before nimbly dropping out of sight.

Astrid sighed. "She hasn't forgiven me."

****

"What do you remember?" Lucy asked through the phone, her voice slightly hushed. Altair and Astrid sighed – frustrated. They had tried to dissect his memories; both of then had been perturbed when they realized his memories were not complete. Gaps in time had Altair reeling from his psyche, as he no longer had a clear view of his past – thanks to the experimental procedure that brought him into this time.

"I remember finding it. Malik had been the one that tracked it down and we went to retrieve it from… " Blurry, stone, cold… Altair's brow furrowed as he concentrated on the chaotic images of stonewalls and the scent of decay. A skull inside a long coffin – its eyes glaring at him as he held the silver orb in his hands. "A tomb." He remembered feeling the warm power of it, pulsing steadily, like a beating heart in his palm and the sudden urge to _unleash_ his will through the land – end this wretched Crusade once and for all… before he dropped it into the leather sack Malik carried as if it had burned him, Al Mualim's obsessed face flaring in his mind.

"That is correct – though we do not know which tomb, we know it was to be in an area that was classified as a cemetery. What else?"

Altair dropped his head in his hands and searched through fragmented images, voices and faces for signs of a gleaming silver orb. Little by little, with Astrid's fingertips gently teasing the nape of his neck into a soothing massage, he began to recall. They had travelled across villages – now unrecognizable with the modern populace, he realized – but their destination… "They were building something. Or had been building something at the time – it was grand." He could remember watching the progress, the flying buttresses and the ants that were people gathering and moving as they toiled to build… "A cathedral."

Astrid snapped to attention. "Cathedrals being built around… 1191?" She leaned into the small laptop, typing rapidly as Altair rubbed his hand over his face. As she typed the date, she tried not to think about the difference. Nearly a thousand years between them and the thought sent a chill down her spine. Her mind continuously wondered about his life – his former life in Masyaf as one of the fathers that build what the Brotherhood is today.

"Huh," Astrid said under her breath as the search loaded. Her history was a little hazy but she knew that this particular cathedral had suffered through several violent events. It fit, though, she realized. They needed to hide the Piece in a place where the other assassins would be able to find it – but the structure had to be prominent enough to stay.

"Which cathedral?" Josette asked suddenly, breaking Astrid from he reverie.

Lifting a brow, thinking of how much of a tactical nightmare it was going to be, Astrid answered, "Notre Dame."

* * *

This is a filler chapter – seeing as all these plot bunnies for different stories have cropped up, uncalled, I've been writing everything else but this. Also, retaining my #1 spot in the AC twitter game's eating much of my time.

Like?


	10. Piece of Eden

University pretty much had its way with my time and soul this past week... I promise a quicker update next time!

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Piece of Eden**

It was a wordless arrangement, already used to each other's movements, Astrid rolled over and blew out a sleepy breath when her cheek smacked onto his chest – it was their room, their bed, and their time. Early morning sunlight struggled through the deep blue curtains; shrouding the room into the near-darkness of a cave and Altair shivered at the deep, steady breaths from Astrid's mouth that tickled his chest. His fingers dug into the ropes of thick dark hair, stirring her from her sleep. The shirt – his shirt – had climbed, it seemed, up to her waist and he stared at the curve of her hip, the simple black boy shorts teased him endlessly, and the sharp dip of her waist – he traced with his fingertips. She quivered in her sleep, pressing her lips to his chest, without opening her eyes.

Her face was in sharp detail as he studied her sleeping form. Her golden-tan skin was darker in the lack of light; her hair spilled over her shoulders and around her body like crow wings and her lips were curled in a half-smile he found enticing. The closeness, the intimacy of her presence were bound to have its effects on him – she opened her eyes as if she sensed the change in the room. Altair was tense, his eyes pierced her like the glare of a basilisk… but a snake would not have the dark, heated look. The snake would not reach out, cup her face in big, calloused hands and kiss her until she felt her entire soul thrumming with a desire so powerful she gasped.

_Much too hot, too much,_ her delirious mind whimpered when Altair's hands and body moved against hers, pinning her, helpless and ecstatic. Resistance and indecision hammered at the sudden desire in her until he kissed her again, so deep her mind blurred and his name pounded in her head. Knowing who it was she was wrapped around, she arched to his touch, responding to each assault on her senses with her own until he could no longer tell where he ended and she began.

These violent cascades of sensations shouldn't be possible, was his last coherent thought when he completely immersed himself in her oblivious to their surroundings, the time apart from themselves – were nonexistent.

Sighing, Astrid settled herself, body still tingling, atop him and tried not to grin stupidly as his raspy pants blew into her ear. Her hair was stuck to her back and his chest and Altair found that he couldn't move his arms. Or legs.

After a hundred years, give or take a few decades, Altair's hand traced the curve of her spine, from bottom to top. "We have to go," he breathed into her hair. Astrid shook her head, mouth pressed against the curve of his shoulder. Contentment lightened them for the brief moments they forgot who they were and what their mission was and they basked in the afterglow of their actions. Still, Altair's words had brought their purpose and they rose as one, standing under the pounding water together and they showered, the former weightlessness now questioned under the weight of what they were – Assassins.

It was too early in the morning for anyone else to be awake, Astrid thought as they crept through the Bureau, climbing down the steep, wooden stairs to the 'entrance' of the apartment building attached to the Bureau. The apartment building was the cover of the Bureau, as an explained building would no doubt rouse the suspicions of anyone close enough to inspect the building. As they walked into the dull morning, the washed-out mist that settled around the bricked road, and whispered around their feet as they found the simple black Smart car by the Bureau's entrance struck Altair.

He'd been doing remarkably well, transition-wise, Astrid mused to herself, driving along the mostly empty streets towards the most famous cathedral in the world. As they approached, Astrid parked the car several blocks away from the structure itself and used the heavy morning as a cloak to hide themselves in a dark alley to climb upwards, to the shabby rooftops of the surrounding buildings.

The assassins were, like all people were, struck by the grandness of the structure and its details. Astrid faced the violet stained glass and it took her a moment to realize that Altair was not by her side. She whirled, heart eyes searching for his figure and she found him, frozen on the spot, gazing at the magnificent cathedral, lips parted and eyes glazed.

Altair's vision blurred. His body seemed to lift itself from where he stood as everything faded from him in a mist and Astrid ceased to exist as he _remembered_…

_Altair stood on the rooftop of the stone building, a housing barrack for those who were building the place, and gazed at the ruin-like beginnings of what was hailed to become a colossal structure. His hood fluttered in the chilly breeze of the foreign country and he studied the ant-like figures of the workers laying the stones with mortar, one after the other, ceaselessly and mindlessly. It was nighttime, he couldn't understand how they could work in the cold air and the only lights were the hundreds of candles and lamps floating creating an eerie glow about the night – he saw several uneasy glances and he recalled European superstitions with a smirk. The workers were simple men, burly but he could see they were not fighters – they just meant to build and return to their families. Yet if they saw him they would kill him – no questions asked – because of his origins. It was an intriguing place; beautiful, filled with artificial women with ridiculous wigs and dirty streets, bricked streets … but they had a fair king. Philippe II or Auguste was treating his country well, Altair mused. _

_But they had been here before, at this very stop, Malik and him, to see the grand spire of the cathedral. It truly was a splendid sight, he admitted, but it the cold stone and jagged curves were uninviting and angry compared to the rounded, decorated mosques he was so fond of climbing in Damascus and Jerusalem. As he shifted his weight, already having stood there for more than two hours, he glanced at Malik and he could see him eyeing the structure with pure admiration… how typical, Altair thought a small smile curving his lips. His brother had chosen a good spot to hide the cursed orb, Altair decided. The finished spire was untouchable and appropriate. No one, he thought, would think of climbing the spire without silly ropes and pulleys… unless they were Altair and Malik and Altair once again tilted his head to seek out the point of the spire. _

_It jutted from the ground, reaching into the inky sky mercilessly, spearing into the darkness, the smooth stone gleaming in the damp night. None of the workers touched the base of the spire, he observed with satisfaction, which made their job remarkably easy. In the darkness he could barely see the details of the spire but in the sunlight he's been able to carve out a route to the top – to the cross. They watched, counting for the bells – ah, there it was, Altair though, inching forward – to clang and they watched the workers drop their stones, axes and mortar to retire for the night. _

"_So, Malik?" Altair questioned, feeling the silver orb in the rucksack he carried, wanting nothing more than to get rid of it. He couldn't bring himself to destroy it. He'd tried so many times to crush it with his bare palms, to drive his sword through its heart but something would always halt him. He loathed it. Malik studied the retiring workers as the lights that flickered out one by one to leave them shrouded in darkness. They wouldn't be able to climb the spire in this pitch-blackness of night. _

"_We must wait for dawn, Altair, we would fall to our deaths if we attempt to climb the spire this night," Malik voiced what Altair was already thinking. Malik could feel Altair's tension and disgruntled energy – but he wanted as much as Altair does to get rid of that artifact. He patted Altair's arm and headed to the small room atop the barracks where they stayed. "We must rest – we begin to climb as soon as dawn breaks." _

_Altair gazed at the spire once more, giving the formidable height a challenging stare before following Malik's retreating form to the room with its two European feather beds._

_*****_

_Dawn was damp, Altair thought as he climbed out of the room to face a dull gray morning. The sun wasn't even in the sky yet but it was light enough that Altair could see Malik at the edge of the barracks, head craned to seek the spiky top of the spire they were to climb. Crickets and dogs scurried by and Altair leapt lightly to the ground, Malik landing softly next to him, and they hurried to the base. It was wider and bigger from close up, Altair realized with surprise as they ran around the base to the dark interior of the cathedral and climbed the platforms to make their climb slightly less challenging. They stopped, at least twenty feet up and they faced the completed, curved wall of the spire and as he ran up the wall, his hands clamping onto a statue's feet, he realized the stone was damp with morning dew. _

_This sort of humidity irritated him as he'd been forced to shed several layers of his white robes in order to not drown in his own sweat. Now his bare arms were coated with moisture and his outer robe and pants were damp as he moved upwards, reaching and pushing himself up. Malik was behind him, climbing with one arm. Altair resisted the urge to look down at his friend to see just how in the world he was climbing one-armed but rather pushed forward, faster, hands slipping as the moisture became slicker and wetter on the stone as they ascended. _

_Even if the workers came out now they wouldn't see them. Malik and Altair's breaths were coming in sharp pants an their muscles strained – but they were halfway up. Altair couldn't look up or down – he could only look straight ahead as he climbed, feeling the muscles in his arms burn in the strain of hauling his body and the rucksack up a vertical surface slowly began to take its toll. Sweat beaded down his forehead but he ignored it, just as he ignored his fingertips being scrapped raw in the rough stone._

_The workers were out and working by the time Altair hauled himself to the top of the spire, onto the small circle of stones were the cross sat. He grabbed it hold himself steady in the small quarters and waited as Malik's one arm reached up and Altair grabbed onto the man's wrist to pull him up. They sat, panting for a minute, Altair wiping sweat from his brow and Malik's one arm shaking from the strain. _

_Altair slipped off his rucksack and dropped its contents onto the stones where he chiseled the larges stone off the structure and proceeded to widen out the crevice before dropping the warm Piece of Eden into the cradle. Before covering the artifact with the stone that would hide it from view, he stared at the silver orb once again, a sense of something important leaving him, something he desperately needed… Wanted … he shook it off, knowing the cursed sphere created it all those illusions, almost as if it knew him, and slammed the rock down, covering Eden with rock and mortar, baring his teeth. Relief coursed through him and he felt the sudden lightness of a burden leaving him as he sealed the stone with sand, rubble and mortar from the rucksack. _

_Malik watched intently, occasionally handing Altair tools as the man carved into the stone with a tiny chisel – a hidden talent of Altair's, he realized as an immaculate Assassin symbol was etched under the key stone and he rocked back on his haunches, wiping dust from the stone, finger tracing the symbol as if entranced. _

_They must have been up there for nearly two hours. Altair was disoriented by the great height, temporarily, and waited while Malik edged towards the end of the world before releasing a sigh and launched himself off, gracefully, one arm held out as he dropped from sight – a leap of faith._

_Altair spared one last glance at the spot where Eden lay and turned his back on it, determination fueling him to leap out into the air. The wind roared in his ears as he plunged through emptiness, adrenaline exploded into his blood making the detail of the statues flying by his line of sight become almost lifelike as he speared through the air. The whooshing grew almost deafening as his heart pounded madly in his chest, the excitement of the near-flying experience swelling in his chest. He couldn't resist an elated laugh before he landed in a large pile of wool, always dazed by the heaviness of his body after experiencing extreme weightlessness. _

_He rolled out, head down and fists clenched, away from the pile and towards Malik who opened his mouth to speak. He blurred, his face distorting into haze. Colors grew sharper, the cathedral distorted... A giant violet rose towered above him… there was a hand on his arm and a soft voice in his ear… a scent he recognized…_

********

"…Altair?" He knew that voice. He loved it. Astrid's face flowed into focus before him, her hand resting on his cheek stirred him, but her concern came him. Her eyes were slightly wide and apprehensive as he looked down at her, then up the violet stained glass, then to the right spire. He could remember the half-built spire so clearly and the Piece of Eden in his hand as he dropped it into its coffin.

"I know where it is," Altair said shortly and tried to move past but Astrid slapped a hand on his chest.

"Wait! Look around, Altair; there are more than a thousand people here. We have to wait until dawn," she hissed and he glanced sharply at her and remembered the similar words spoken to him by Malik.

Altair tensed, surprised by the urge to grab her arm and pull her towards the spire, and nodded silently as she sighed and turned to face the cathedral. "You know, that zombie thing really scared me. But you remembered, didn't you – Altair? Altair! Shit!" Astrid swore loudly when Altair's running figure dashed from sight around the spire. Growling under her breath, Astrid followed the shocked whispers and French shouting to see Altair already twenty feet up and moving fast. Following impulse, she followed, running up the wall until she grabbed onto a ledge and hauled herself up until she was neck and neck with Altair. Her arms shook as she reached and pulled, using her legs to alleviate the strain by pushing until she was pressed, toes to forehead against the wall and climbing.

Altair heard Astrid's labored breathing and had to give her a smile, recognizing stubbornness when he saw it, and she threw him a death glare before scrambling upwards, ignoring the sirens that wailed. She would have preferred doing this at their own pace without the French population staring holes into their backs as they progressed, passing the halfway point. Astrid didn't dare stop, knowing if she did, she'd never start but instead followed Altair's method of never looking up or down, only reaching and pulling herself up even though her muscles screamed, not used to extensive and difficult climbing without her equipment. As they powered upwards, they could barely hear the sirens or the shouts as they moved closer and closer to the weathered cross and Astrid nearly gasped and scrambled up, rather ungracefully, and her hands clutching the cross so she wouldn't slide off the edge.

"You did well," Altair said. He knew that at several points during their long climb upwards, she'd wavered, her arms shaking and threatening to collapse but he had to commend her determination. Or stubbornness. Or fear of falling. Altair chuckled at her red, sweaty face and watched as she gathered herself so she sat on her haunches, mimicking his own pose with his hands dangling between his knees. She would have retorted but her gaze landed on a barely present crease on the rock between them. It was too straight to be a crack and she could feel the indentation of a parallel line. It didn't make sense to her until Altair traced the assassin symbol and Astrid pulled her knife from under her light jacket and began to saw at the old mortar that gave away like cheese.

"If its not here, Altair, and I just climbed that for nothing, I'm going to kill you," Astrid growled as she knifed around the rock. It made sense to hide it here. One would have to be insane, or they had to be Altair and Astrid, to climb that spire in the middle of the morning in France.

As Astrid sheathed the knife, Altair dug his fingers in the creases and lifted it, shifting the stone as it rasped its way out of its place. Astrid coughed when a small mushroom cloud of smoke wafted from the small pit but she stopped when Altair lifted a piece of silver, of Eden, in his bare hand and it glowed in the sunlight. It was certainly more powerful than the one she taken from Abstergo since Astrid could feel its heat and power as if it thrummed with energy.

"Here," Astrid whispered and grabbed her black bag from her pocket and Altai nearly threw it in its depths, a wide-eyed look on his face.

Still on top of the spire, Astrid braved a look down at the ant-like people still gathered round the spire. "Now what?"

* * *

Author's Notes: To quote a fellow fanfiction writer… whom, for the life of me, I can't remember which story they wrote, said, "The thought of Altair having sex breaks my poor little brain." It applies to me as well. :) I had to stop and skip to the end or else I would have exploded all over. Said FF writer also wrote the prologue to rather intriguing story that I can't seem to find… so if you know, drop me a review or a message so I can give proper credit.

On a historical note… Notre Dame was actually started around 90+ years before Altair's time so I figure the timing was decent in the completion of the right or left spire since it took them a hell of a long time to get that done. I took the 'wool pile' idea from AC2.

Like?


	11. Capture

Chapter Eleven: The Black Castle; Capture

"Lock it away," Astrid said to the big-eyed girl. Josette, a somber and quiet girl… an assassin, nodded at Astrid's request. Her deep brown eyes never wavered from Astrid's face as they shared secret information with their gazes. Altair watched from the sidewalk as they face each other, the small girl's fierce expression startling Altair as they leaned closer, Astrid's lips moving as she whispered to the girl. Josette had reminded him of the self he had been in his youth – withdrawn, quiet but beyond competent, excelling at the art of assassination. The short, chin length hair and long bangs hid most of her face but she was pretty, he realized. She looked like a darker version of Astrid.

"And if they come?" Josette asked suddenly, her voice reflecting her age for a brief moment. Astrid paused when she heard the sudden uncertainty and insecurity in her voice and for the quickest, but sharpest of moments, she could see Josette's life in a normal family, without the training, without the need to detach herself from anyone in case they were Templars… it saddened Astrid. She gave the girl a reassuring smile and her eyes shone with confidence and a hint of intensity that reminded Josette why she'd looked up to Astrid.

"If they come… you give them everything you have and you never stop. And then you run. Promise?" Astrid's voice dropped and her hands curled around the girl's arms. Surprised by this sudden display of emotion and fierceness, Josette nodded again and Astrid loosened her hold. "We think the other piece is in Romania. We will come back, okay?" Astrid gave the girl another happy, rare, smile and made her way down the stone steps to Altair.

As she approached, Altair stared at the sill figure of the girl and her shadowy brown eyes. He'd detected the case of hero worship towards Astrid and he noted the look of regret on Astrid's face as they slid into the black vehicle.

"Why did you lie to her about where we were going?" Altair asked curiously. Astrid sighed and risked a glance at his face.

"In case they capture them, I told her the wrong location." Astrid wanted to wheel around and tell Josette everything. "But she's a smart girl. She'll figure out what we're up to soon."

Though he wasn't satisfied with that answer, Altair let it go and picked up the map Astrid had hidden under the seat and looked that small island Astrid had circled. "Ireland?"

Astrid nodded. "From pieces of data Sam managed to retrieve before Abstergo blocked him, he found a few of the locations… but I hope you have another one of your visions again because Ireland's their next target."

"We're racing them, aren't we?" Altair asked, sensing the sudden tension in the car. Though they were not aware of the ultimate plan Abstergo had, they knew Abstergo relied on the Pieces of Eden and the artifacts in order to carry it out. They had become a nuisance to Abstergo tenfold in since the arrival of Altair. She did not respond but he sensed that they were and he hoped that his memory would once again aid them as it had at Notre Dame… It unsettled him, that memory… more of a vision than a piece of remembrance but it had helped him. He recalled what Astrid had told him. "It was probably seeing the cathedral that triggered your memories though I don't know why they're being suppressed. It means it might work again when we see the castle. I hope so."

Altair looked out the window of the car, at the vastly different landscape. Everything gleamed in the future, he realized. Everything was open. He was slowly but surely adjusting to the time here but it was not his home. He risked a glance at Astrid again. She was always there. He never realized how a companion in every aspect of his life would make such a difference.

Astrid pulled into a different airfield, one that barely resembled competency and she smiled. Though she got airsick half the time she was on a plane, it was impossible not to love this place. This was, after all, where she'd spent her childhood when her parents… Shaking the thought from her mind, she shot Altair a bright smile and pulled up to a metal shack next to the runway where a white and red plane sat, ready. Altair surveyed the cracked concrete making spider-web patterns under their feet and the overgrowth of vines that clenched the trailer-like shack Astrid headed for. It appeared the deserted it if wasn't for the folkloric French music that fluttered from the shack.

Altair leaned against the car, crossing his arms over his chest, watching the shack like a hawk. Astrid shook the childhood memories from her grasp as she scrambled up the steps and jolted back; squeaking as the long barrel of a shotgun nearly took her eye out. Her arms waved as she stumbled back and her hands clamped onto the railing on the steps. Altair pushed off the car when the barrel began to wave wildly as it searching for Astrid's face to blow off.

"What the hell!" Astrid screeched, her voice rising to a pitch that made Altair pause and stare. "What do you think you're doing, stupid!? Get that out of my face, it's me! Astrid!" Panting, she saw the barrel freeze at her voice and at the mention of her name.

"Astrid?" The scratchy voice and the shotgun barrel made Astrid's eyebrow twitch.

"Yes… now… please?" Astrid swallowed when the barrel slid back inside the shack and the door blew open to reveal and fifty year old man with thick, gray hair and a dark blue jumpsuit, stained with old motor grease. Yet, Altair found himself, respecting this strange charismatic man who trotted down the steps and drew Astrid into a chokehold-hug. She flailed her arms weakly, wheezing incoherently until a booming laugh escaped the man who then held her at arms length and looked at her up and down. The short black skirt and black lace turtleneck were appealing, Altair thought, especially with the black, buckled boots that stopped at her knee. He didn't realize it until the man's eyes showed a very masculine interest that Altair recognized all too well. Possessiveness rose like a fist and he tapped the hood of the car, glaring at the side of the man's head.

Smiling fondly, Astrid spoke, "Altair this is Isaac, and old friend of my father. He's going to take us to Ireland, right?" Astrid turned on her puppy eyes full force of the defenseless man who suddenly lost his train of through. Altair smirked.

"Pleasure," Altair said through gritted teeth. Oblivious to the rays of possessiveness pulsing from Altair, Isaac whirled and headed for the plane while Astrid smiled at Isaac's back.

"He's taking us?" Altair couldn't hide the dislike in his tone. Astrid, who didn't miss it, turned, surprised, toward Altair. "Why him?"

"He's always helped me when I asked. Anyway, he's the fastest way to get to Ireland without having to deal with customs and whatever. You'll like him, Altair, really." Astrid patted his cheek, realizing that the dislike was tinged with a little green jealously. It touched her, though she knew it shouldn't, since she knew he trusted her. Not daring to laugh, Astrid opened the trunk and pulled out her duffle bag when she heard the plane's engine start with a sputter. Altair followed as she walked toward the plane, his own bag over his shoulder.

Isaac flipped the switch from the cockpit to open the metal steps and waited until Astrid had strapped the bags to the locker.

Already a little green, Astrid huddled next to Altair who absentmindedly grabbed one of the bags from under the seats. "How long?"

"About three hours. Plenty of time to recall what you had for breakfast," Isaac called out.

Altair cracked a smile.

********

"Well? Do you remember anything?" Astrid's hands were beginning to ache from hanging off the rocks. Isaac had flown them to his airfield in Ireland where he also possessed, much to Astrid's confusion, a fleet of Lincoln town cars. This time, Altair drove through the lush green country that reminded him of the richness of Jerusalem after mastering the brakes and accelerator. Astrid had sat next to him, laptop on her thighs as she downloaded several blueprints of the castle.

"No," Altair replied tersely, silently willing his mind to just remember something.

"We need to get closer. I don't think Abstergo is here yet." Astrid pulled herself up, trying not to think about climbing up a steep cliff wall without a harness in a short black skirt. At least she'd worn shorts. The pulled up to the small cliff that brought them a gorgeous view of the castle walls – and they allowed themselves a brief moment to admire the vast structure. It was magnificent, even in ruins; the castle was gorgeous and regal, exuding and air of mysticism. Astrid wished she could have seen it in its full glory. They pushed on, occasionally helping each other as the got closer and closer to level land and towards the castle walls. Astrid had to admit it might have been easier to just walk right up to the entrance… but she doubted whoever kept the castle would have let them roam until they found the artifact.

Gritting her teeth, Astrid wheezed out a breath as she pulled herself over the edge of the cliff and looked back to see Altair jump to his feet. "Ouch."

"I would have thought a Master Assassin would have mastered climbing," Altair said, an eyebrow raised as Astrid flexed her fingers.

"We have elevators," Astrid growled. She looked comical to Altair who let out a rare laugh that stopped Astrid. She cocked her head to the side. He looked like a completely different person when he laughed. It was easy to imagine a life without a creed when he laughed.

They studied the castle wall; it was weathered and cracked… it was not climbable from where they were, Altair decided, so they ran along the wall, searching for a low point. They found it, several yards down. It was a gaping hole in the wall where a cannon or perhaps and explosion had pierced the stone, creating a perfect entrance for the two assassins and Astrid pulled the hook shot from its holster and fired it, hearing the clink of the metal digging into the rock. The small knapsack held the rope they needed and Astrid secured it once more before releasing the trigger and feeling the tug on her arm as she flew upwards, somersaulting through the hole and landing on a wooden platform. Pressing herself to the wood, Astrid looked around, eyes darting to and fro and she searched for any kind of movement as she opened the knapsack and threw the rope down to Altair while she tied it to the metal part of the structure she sat on.

The rope went taught and the platform, it was built recently, Astrid realized, and the wood groaned. Deciding that it would hold, Astrid peered over the edge. They were high up, she noticed, and these platforms were in random spots along the outside wall, mostly where heavy damage had broken the wall. The inside of the castle resembled somewhat of a fairytale. It was a vast maze of rooms and a several towers that, even thought some were crumbled and destroyed, were beautiful. She hoped that Altair would remember where the artifact was. Plants and vines crept up the walls and Astrid had to laugh. It looked so romantic… yet the place was deserted and she knew that was Abstergo's doing. Normally, she thought, this place would be crawling with tourists, photographers and foreigners but the stillness of the ruins was sinister. No longer entranced, Astrid waited until Altair's head rose and he pulled himself onto the platform beside her.

Unexpected, the vision hit him like a sledgehammer. He slumped into Astrid's lap, hearing her panicked voice call out his name as his vision blackened.

"_Leighlinbridge Castle," Altair murmured as he surveyed the seeming impenetrable structure. It was grand, he admitted, and heavily guarded but he could already see the side effects of a long time of peace – no worried faces, the plentiful guards were relaxed but wary and the air was light. It seemed King Richard's crusade had not reached this far north. The dewy air was different than the humid musk of France. It was more pleasant and it smelled of sweet rain. The castle, nearly finished, was quite a sight, even compared to the magnificence of the cathedral, for the two assassins. _

_Malik was kneeling beside him, also searching the castle. He, like Altair, was feeling the peaceful air that surrounded the land. "They call it ' the Black Castle' according to some village people. They didn't tell me why… but the person we seek is inside." Villagers were allowed inside the castle walls freely. He doubted these strangers – Altair had been struck by the milky white skin and auburn hair of the populace as well as by the green eyes of several maidens who had dared to stare him in the eye – knew what an assassin looked like. _

"_Hmm," Altair hummed in his throat. This artifact was easy, so he was not worried… but it was the next one he was wary of. As they were heading to Cyprus next, he knew King Richard was laying siege there. He was not a target, but the presence of Templars was tempting and they would surely recognize him. "Who is it that we searching for again?" _

_Malik sighed. Thought he'd been tolerable these past several months of traveling and finding the artifacts, he sensed that Altair was restless. He couldn't blame his friend. He missed the dry heat of Masyaf and the security of their fortress. "John de Claville," Malik explained. "He's a monk of some sort." _

"_And why do we trust him… Malik… of Eden…"_

Altair frowned, his palms over his eyes as the images distorted and the voices overlapped. How could it be? His memories were splintered and disjointed… but the artifact was inside this castle, he knew.

"_John… trust me… take it to my grave… promise." The elderly man who could barely walk set the silver orb aside and touched Altair's chest, directly above his heart. _

"…_have…good heart, son. He… not forgotten you." The man with the kind, light blue eyes had smiled gently at him, almost fatherly. _His face flickered. _"Don't forget… my grave."_

"_Now you must kill me."_

"Altair!" Astrid's heart pounded in her chest as Altair stiffened on her lap once more, his fists dug painfully into her arm as his face contorted with pain again. Breathing heavily, Astrid yanked her arm from his grasp and drew it back before swinging her palm forward so her palm struck his cheek with more force than she intended but his eyes snapped open and in a second, he had her pinned against the groaning wood.

He blinked when her face came into focus from the remnants of the disjointed memory. He took in her wide eyes and her clenched fists as well as the fact that he'd twisted her arm and she was absolutely still. "Astrid?"

"What happened?" Astrid asked when he released her and he slumped away from her. Massaging her wrists, she studied him. She knew he'd had another vision but something had happened. She could still see his eyes glazing over and his hands shooting out and grabbing her wrists painfully as he contorted under her. "You were shouting about a grave, Altair."

He nodded, his face pale. Shaken up, Altair reached out without thinking and her fingers twined with his, comforting him. "Malik and I were seeking a man named John de Claville. A monk that Malik found possessed the artifact. We were going to take it from him… but it stayed." The images had sparked an ache behind his eyes and a tiredness washed over his body. It was fatigue, he realized. He was coping but it was taking a lot from him.

"You left it with him?" Astrid's voice brought him away from his thoughts. Her brow was furrowed.

"We did. We just… trusted him. He said he'd take it to his grave." It was inexplicable, Altair thought; the sudden trust he felt with the man who had been able to read him like a book. Who had touched his heart and said he was still good and who'd looked into his face like a father would a son and had told him he'd receive a second chance to change everything and defeat his enemies. He wondered if his presence was that second chance…

"I know where the cemetery is," Astrid said and Altair's gaze snapped onto the map she'd drawn from memory on the wood. "If he took it to his grave… literally, we might find it there. I think that's the first place we should look."

"Yes. If not…" Altair trailed off. A thousand years, a thousand events could have taken the artifact anywhere on this planet.

Astrid did not respond. She crawled to the edge of the platform and dropped to the one below easily and Altair followed. They were on the far back northwest corner of the castle, near the cemetery, so he knew that finding it… or not finding it wouldn't take long. They might be gone long before those beastly Templars showed up. They dropped to the ground, staying in a low crouch as they scampered across the shadowed grounds, taking care to keep to the walls as they progressed deeper into the castle.

Altair had killed him. _Now you must kill me_. The voice haunted Altair as they drew closer and closer to the cemetery. Climbing over walls, staying as silent as a moth, Altair remembered slowly. The man, John de Claville, had held the ominous sphere in his hands but he'd set it down. And Altair, at John's request, had plunged his blade deep into the man's spine, knowing the man would not feel anything but the warm of his blood and death. And they had waited, standing atop the church, watching the funeral procession of a Catholic priest as the man was dropped in a wooden coffin, the orb inside, feeling a strange sort of sadness at the passing of one of the few people who'd looked past his assassin robes and into who he was. The angel monument seemed to glow for a moment when the soil was being packed over the grave.

Malik had been furious, naturally, that he'd let the artifact stay but Altair could not explain his actions more than Malik could. He only knew that if the artifact was underground in a grave of a lesser-known priest, it had less of a chance to be found. The logic was twisted but they left…

"Is this his grave?" Astrid asked softly, a hand on the calf of a stone angel, as she tried to read the eroded name. Altair nodded but looked across and upwards of the angel at the ruins of what he assumed was the church he'd lurked in when de Claville's body had been discovered. It was so different back then… He jolted when he heard the sound of metal stabbing into dirt as Astrid shoveled into the ground at the angel's feet. Altair grabbed his own shovel and they managed to work their way until Altair smashed his shovel into dirt clumps and the shovel struck something solid. Both of them stopped and looked at the other in perfect stillness as they realized they had reached the coffin of John de Claville.

Astrid pulled herself out of the hole and waited as Altair stabbed downwards, breaking the wood and tried not to shudder as she realized their actions. Surely she was going to hell now… but the thought was wiped away when the brightest flash of light erupted from the hole Altair had made in the coffin. Gasping, Astrid threw her arm over her eyes and waited as the light dissipated into a glow. "What is that?!" Astrid groaned.

They blinked the spots out of their eyes and Altair reached down and felt the smooth warm silver of the artifact. It glowed like nothing ever should and without looking at each other, they dropped it in Altair's knapsack and shut it tight but they felt the eerie warmth the sphere emitted.

"Astrid!" Altair hissed and they tensed, both of them picking up the sounds of footsteps coming from the direction they'd come in. Hearing the growth of plants being disturbed coming closer they bolted, Altair snatching his knapsack, sprinting, the opposite way and turning into the entrance of the church. The scrambled over the fallen rocks and ruins, hearing each others' breaths coming in quick, anxious pants.

"Just run!" Astrid grunted out as they pushed themselves until the ricochet of a warning shot made them stop cold. Astrid whirled around, teeth bared; already sensing who it was behind them.

Vidic's shape was too easily recognized and Altair growled, wishing he'd brought some sort of weapon. The gleaming metal of a pistol in Vidic's hand angered Astrid who was also weaponless except for the throwing stars. She'd be too slow, reaching behind her… he'd shoot them.

"You're not getting anything from us!" Altair snarled. His body was tense, ready to fight.

"I think I am," Vidic said softly. "You, Astrid, bring me the artifact. Quickly, or I'll plant a bullet in his brain."

The knapsack on her back was heavy and the gun did not waver from Altair's forehead. Fear like she'd never known before speared through her system and she shakily took a few steps forward, hating the helplessness that swallowed her from top to bottom.

"Don't Astrid," Altair whispered, hand reaching out for her.

"Don't touch her. She cares for your, boy, and that's her weakness. Bring it and I'll let him live." Vidic was so close. He could taste the sweet victory on his tongue and he wanted it. Astrid's pale face grew closer as she stumbled forward, hands clenched, rage visible on her features. They could have gotten out.

Astrid was the only one who noticed Vidic's almost imperceptive nod – a signal. She was close to him, barely fifteen feet away from the arched entrance of the church and Altair was far behind her, seething. She stopped when she felt rather than heard the sudden movement.

"Run Altair!" She screamed when four pairs of hands slammed her to the ground, her head bouncing off the stone. Altair jerked forward to help her when her command broke through the sudden panic that welled. _"Run! Get away! Go!"_

"Run, please! Don't let them – aaggh!!" She thrashed and screamed when a needle was plunged into her neck and she was quickly swallowed in a deep darkness, one she could never fight. She hoped, with the last bit of consciousness that Altair was running. Running with the artifact...

Vidic sighed. He wished they didn't have to be taken in like this… but Altair had vanished like the nonexistent person he was in this century. Oh well, it was a small loss. They would catch up to him. He had his prize now. He walked to the unconscious girl and felt her pulse. It was strong and the expression of sadness was frozen on her features. The knapsack was under her.

His heart pounding in his chest, he lifted the canvas bag, ignoring the small voice that told that something was wrong. Vidic froze.

His hand plunged deep into the bag, feeling only rope and metal. Altair had it. He had his prize.

He was going to pay.

* * *

I meant to have this up sooner, so sorry for the wait! Part twelve will be up soon!

On a historical note, the Black Castle and John de Claville were supplied by the lazy-college-student guide: Wikipedia… but I'm pretty sure they did exist.

Like?


	12. Italia

I happened to notice a glitch in my story. Lucy obviously knows about the plan to launch the satellite with the artifacts in December… but here, she doesn't.

**Chapter Twelve: Italia**

He could no longer hear them. Astrid's shouting and cursing has ceased abruptly the moment he'd clambered onto the rooftop of the church. He could not wipe the image from his mind. The quick figures on both sides of her had all but flown to her side. They had managed to sweep her feet from under her and he'd watched as two men had slammed her to the ground, pinning her shoulders and arms with their knees. She'd screamed for him to run…

Altair ran, fighting his instinct to turn around and fight for Astrid and plunge his blade deep into Vidic's flesh, making sure the man felt every second of his death. He was sure that they would not find him now. He was running along the castle wall, to the dirt bikes they had left as their getaway rides. His heart pounded for the strain of pushing himself to the limit and from witnessing Astrid's capture and her parting scream. She'd begged him to run and he was fully aware of the artifact he possessed.

He wanted to hurl it out into the ocean.

He didn't stop when he got to the bikes and he had to thank the gods for the GPS Astrid had installed and only when he was astride the bikes, did he mull over his options. Frowning, he knew there was no way he could get back to Johansson… but he'd have to get in contact with Quincy about Astrid. He grimaced and his grip tightened on the handlebars. They had been pinned down, lured into a trap, outnumbered and helpless. He cursed under his breath in Arabic. He needed to get back to France and find Josette, knowing in the pit of his stomach that the girl would help him get to Astrid, and finally tear the Templars from the Earth.

He rode with his helmet on, just in case he was recognized as he recalled Abstergo had put them on the international wanted list for crimes he'd never even heard of. He pushed the bike to its limits as he powered towards the airfield. He sincerely regretted not liking the man, as he was the key to flying to France. When he finally spotted the airfield – his heart skipped a rather relieved beat when he saw the plane was still there – he accelerated, reaching nearly 120 miles per hour before slowing down once he got closer to the small shack.

He let the bike drop to the ground, ripped the helmet off his head and slammed the door open; not caring about the crash he heard behind him.

Isaac paused, with the cup of coffee halfway to his lips. He'd watched the sleek black dirt bike throttle through the grass at breakneck speed, the rider leaning low on the handlebars through the blinds. The rider was not Astrid, he realized, as the urgency of the rider's movements broke though. Altair, he thought, the frenzied expression makes you look terrifying.

"Astrid?" Isaac asked calmly and watched the fury rise in Altair's body, almost visually as every muscle knotted. Swat dripped from his brow as he controlled his volatile emotions to the refined calmness of an assassin.

"They have her. I couldn't – she was screaming at me to run. Help me." The last words erupted from Altair's mouth almost intelligibly. Pride meant nothing to him when Astrid's life was concerned and that fact shook him to his core. He stored that fact – the fact that he was absolutely ready to use everything he had to save her – away for his mind's own protection and because he realized his primary objective was to get to Josette.

Isaac did not move but he looked studied Altair intensely. The connection between Altair and Astrid was solid, he thought as the assassin drew in deep breaths and the frenzy in his eyes calmed to a formidable determination that Isaac admired. Like night and day they were. "I'll take you to France, but I cannot help you after that."

"That is fine. It's all I ask for," Altair could have howled his gratitude but he kept calm. He needed to be.

Isaac moved his head only slightly and he spoke, "I'll have the plane ready in two hours after I've refueled it. The phone is over there." It was abrupt but Altair understood. Isaac left after snatching a bagel from a cupboard.

Altair let his hand rest on the phone Isaac has pointed out… but he instead reached for the international cell phone Astrid had provided. He was calling Quincy's phone, knowing fully well that she would not tolerate him notifying anyone else first. Quincy's voice, stronger and healthier answered after the second ring.

"Altair?" Quincy's tone was puzzled.

"Quincy… something's happened."

*********

Astrid opened her eyes slowly but she blinked rapidly and turned away from the bright, fluorescent lights above her. Her arms were heavy and she was groggy. Her head felt stuffed with cotton and her legs felt like they were weighed down with cement. She moaned weakly as the events prior to her awakening began to fall in place. They'd been followed and tricked by Vidic. She remembered the painful injection of the tranquilizer in her neck as well as the desperation she felt when they pinned her, ruthlessly applying their weight on her body. Her shoulders were sore and her side ached again. She remembered one of them had kneed her side, right where the healing would was.

The aftereffects of whatever drug they had used were brutal as Astrid dragged herself upwards, hands weakly scrambling at the sheets under her.

"Oh god," Astrid groaned, not believing that she could barely support herself. It gave her a chance to look at her surroundings, if only for a second and through a haze that made her thought process slow. It was a simple room, medium sized, with a closet in front of her stocked with white clothes and towels. The room was windowless and the vents too small. What she realized was a bathroom was on her right and another door on her left… and she sat on a low, basic bed with white sheets. Abstergo, she thought, and still had enough energy in her to

She tried to tense when the door hissed open but she couldn't even force a snarl on her face when Vidic walked in, smiling happily.

"Astrid, I have to apologize - "

"Bullshit, Vidic," Astrid hissed. Her vision wavered but her hands fisted at her sides. It was then that she noticed what she wore. A simple white dress with a racer back that stopped right above her knees. She tried not to shudder. If any Templar had gotten their hands on her there would be hell to pay, she swore.

"Really now." Vidic clasped his hands behind him and smiled at her. "Impressive, Astrid, that you woke so soon. And that the side effects haven't knocked you out yet… but it's futile. You cannot get out and no one can come in. The only person you are going to be in contact with is myself, Lucy and Desmond."

There was a black haze closing in on her vision. Astrid gritted her teeth, fighting the heavy darkness that was pulling her relentlessly. "You have no idea," she breathed.

"Of what?"

"You have no idea of what's coming for you," Astrid uttered before the blackness closed in mercilessly and she slumped backwards, out cold until the drug was expelled from her system, which Vidic figured would be in four hours, and that time was enough to prepare her for her job. It was a pity they couldn't find Altair. They could have used him - but he had his prize now. Once Malik was awakened, it wouldn't be long until they had the remaining artifacts and they might not need the ones the Assassins possessed. He gritted his teeth. They had two artifacts, two that rightfully belonged to him!

********

Altair tried very hard to not believe the scene before him. He had convinced himself that he was on the wrong block, wrong house, and wrong _country _– if it meant that he was at the wrong place. That he wasn't standing on the rubble that remained of the Bureau in Paris. That Parisian fire trucks weren't still fighting the fire that licked at the surrounding buildings and had charred the Bureau to a crisp.

It finally broke through when he realized there was one important thing missing from the scene. Assassins. He watched as yet another Abstergo soldier was pulled from the rubble, dead, and set down next to the rest of the bodies. He'd watched, from the safety of the building across, hiding in the balcony, as they dug through the rubble, searching for any familiar face and finding none he recognized. If there was a chance the assassins and Josette had fled, it meant there was still hope for him. He watched for a few more minutes as the fire was slowly tamed and his heart slowed… perhaps whoever was following him… He cocked his head to the side when his ears picked up a small rustle above him. Of course, he thought.

Josette leaned over the roof of the building, glaring at the top of Altair's head. She'd been doing so well. She had found him, halfway across the city and she'd tracked him like only she could. It was her gift, Astrid had told her, the fact that she could trail, track and follow anyone she wished without being spotted – unless it was another assassin. Moving daintily, she dropped next to Altair, slightly peeved when he didn't move a muscle, only turned his head to look at her, lips curled in a slight amused smile. He'd calmed down some on the flight back to France… and even more so when Isaac had handed over the keys to a black Harley, showy in that particular country, and clapped a hand onto his shoulders wordlessly before departing.

Josette's brow eyes were trained on him as she sat back on her haunches, fingertips touching the floor between her feet. "They attacked at precisely three in the morning."

-

Josette jerked awake, hand already closing on the tiny Derringer she kept behind the metal headboard of her bed and pointing it at the door before she was actually fully awake. Light flickered from the window and she drew in a deep breath. It was just as Astrid said. _If they come… you give them everything you have and you never stop. And then you run. Promise?_

"I promise," Josette breathed before lurching to her feet and grabbing the duffel bag she'd stored under the cot. True the their word, there were no assassins in the building, all of them heeding Astrid's warning and they'd relocated to the Bureau in Versailles. Only she remained. Slipping in to her favorite pair of heeled boots and turtleneck dress, she slid along the wall and peeked out the window. Sure enough, she could see shadows flitting across the lighted areas of the street and taking careful aim, she tossed the duffel bag into the balcony next door before waiting patiently. The explosives expert had helped her a considerable amount for this particular job yet she waited patiently in the main hallway, glancing at the curtain several yards behind her.

Heavy footsteps stomped their way closer and Josette hand closed over her other wrist as one by one, they pooled into the hallway from the far end, their guns pointing at her as she took quick steps backwards. She counted on her size and appearance for a pause – which she got. She smiled before tapping the button on her watch and whirling into a sprint as she counted. One… two… three… four…

If her world wasn't already shaken, she sure felt it now as the floor trembled from under feet as she flitted through the curtain and scrambled behind the couch as the explosion ripped through the building and the doors slammed shut, trapping the fire and the explosion in the Bureau. Josette blinked, dazed as her ears popped and her mind roared – or was it the explosion behind her? – that echoed throughout the neighborhood. The building trembled and she crawled, still dazed and a little dizzy, towards the balcony, hands clutching at the duffel bag as she climbed over the railing and dropping to the ground easily before staggering to the small car.

-

"I got most of them, but I think a few were still outside." Josette paused. "I was waiting. Something happened to Astrid?"

"I need your help," Altair confirmed, now looking out at the rubble again.

"Where did they take her?"

Altair smiled. Quincy had cursed for nearly ten minutes, her voice growing hoarse before she finally processed what Altair was saying. Sam had been resourceful enough to get the information he needed, while he was on the plane, and the location. One which Altair was familiar with and he looked at Josette's somber eyes before answered.

"They've taken her to Italy."

* * *

A little short, but the next on will be great, I promise!!


	13. The Satellite

I don't believe my stories have ever exceeded the ten-chapter mark. Hehe, enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: The Satellite; December 19th, 2012**

Searing pain tore through her head, behind her eyes as jumbled images punched into her mind, forced into her conscious. She howled, her back arching and her fists clenched but the metal clasps on her wrist impeded with any movements she would have made to stop the awful sourceless pain. The metal on her ankles and hips restrained her further but she struggled, head thrashing from side to side violently.

"Stop it!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and scratchy from shrieking, and didn't dare open her eyes.

"Sedate her!" a voice commanded. _Where was Altair? Her? I'm Malik… No!_ Astrid strained against the mental assault, frantically recalling her own memories, and against her physical bindings as the Animus Mark II stole into her mind once more. She felt the sting of a needle on the inside of her elbow and she swore again when the images, those memories, bulleted themselves into her mind.

_It had no mercy and her psyche was once again assaulted and it was suddenly very clear, the dirt road and the back of the horses' head, as well as the dry breeze that swept from the kingdom that fluttered to his robes. There was a voice screaming in his head, a woman's voice. What was that? "Let me out!" he suddenly shrieked and the man next to him whirled to face him. _

Astrid gasped and stilled her struggles. She battled through the Animus' attack with the resolve of seeing that man. That face… the dark brown eyes and curled lips and that scar that cut through them and the stubble that coated his jaw. The white hood fluttered only slightly, revealing for a second, the high cheekbones and furrowed brows of Altair Ibn La-Ahad. _Altair! It's me Astrid!_

"Stop it, Vidic, you're killing her!" The new voice was so familiar and she fought to defend herself.

"She can handle it, right Astrid?" Vidic shook off Lucy's warning, staring at the writhing form on the Animus. The girl never stopped moving, groaning and whimpering as the Animus searched for weak points in her psyche to penetrate and erase. She'd fought the Animus' procedure for nearly an hour, constantly fighting the onslaught with determination that intimidated Vidic. Lucy pushed him aside and typed quickly into the machine, initializing the shut down sequence before Vidic could react.

"What are you doing?! The Animus nearly has her!" Vidic snarled, moving to shove Lucy out of the way.

"The Animus is killing her, Vidic, she can't take more. She's going to have an aneurysm if you don't stop!" Lucy cried as the Animus began to shut down. Astrid's struggles slowly ceased as the images slowly faded and retreated, leaving her own disjointed memories behind. The metal clasps slid back and she immediately rubbed her eyes, hoping to ease the ache behind them. The dull throbbing never ceased as the opened her eyes and narrowed them when the bright lights pierced into her retinas. She was only able to make out Lucy's concerned face as the blonde woman tilted her face up, fingers beneath her chin, and shined a light – which felt more like a hellfire laser – in her eyeballs. Astrid jerked her head away and sat up, disoriented.

"Hey, look here. How many fingers am I holding up?" Astrid peeked through her fingers, saw Lucy's concerned eyes first and through her hazy vision saw only four digits being held in her face that splintered and wavered to eight digits. Shaking her head, she tried again.

"F-Four. What were you doing to me?" The reality of where she was and her situation finally began to seep in. Of course, she was still at some godforsaken Abstergo facility in Italy, with Vidic as her host, and Lucy as her ally. She didn't get an answer.

"Damn it, Lucy! It was so close! Her ancestor was on the surface!" Vidic was livid. The Animus had been ready to 'fire' the last, powerful DNA stimulants into her body, which was sure to bring her ancestor forward…it was so close. Yet his scientist mind accepted the fact that her brain activity had been erratic. Unlike Keith, who'd undergone the treatment willingly, Astrid had fought fiercely, causing the Animus to behave erratically and for her brain activity to skyrocket out of control.

"Close to killing her, Vidic, and then what? You saw her brain activity, she was ready to have a seizure," Lucy snapped, her voice rising. Astrid frowned. What on earth were they talking about? More fragmented images pulsed forward but this time she recognized them – they were her own and she welcomed them. Slowly, fingers rubbing circles on her temples, she forced her own memories forward, forcing the strange ones back. They were of Malik, but she held on to one… the one where she could see Altair's face so clearly. The face he was born with was not that different. He still retained the lethal presence. She smiled, despite her situation.

"Get Miles in here!" Vidic ordered, his gruff voice petulant. Astrid's lip curled with disgust. Lucy glared at Vidic for only a few more moments, no doubt mentally cursing the man to the deepest pit of hell before going to the room next to Astrid's and taping the code into the small keypad. Astrid swung her legs over, her headache intensifying, and she stood.

"Sit down. We're not done with you yet," Vidic snapped, the friendly façade was gone from his demeanor. "Your refusal to cooperate will have its consequences, Miss Castillo."

"What? Are you going to ground me?" Astrid couldn't help but taunt him, as childish as it was.

"No. We will not show any mercy when we capture your Altair." Astrid's smile faded instantly. Her hand shot out and curled around Vidic's neck with surprising force.

This was the third session – the fourth day in Abstergo – in which they had tried to force Malik to emerge from her DNA. They tried to kill her own mind, her psyche first, in order to force Malik into her body. It was worse that killing her, she thought, as the pain wracked memories of the Animus' first attack rose. It was as if they'd been drilling holes in her skull and pouring acid through her ears when the memories rose, not gentle like the original Animus, but like spikes and barbs through her mind. She cringed, the memory making her resolve to destroy this man stronger. She feared she would not be able to stand more of the assault. The Animus was already making her memories, even her recent ones, hazy and disjointed and there were Malik's memories, already in her mind.

"I could kill you right now, Vidic," she hissed, increasing the pressure on his neck. His eyes bugged out and he slapped at her arms, aiming for her face. No yet, Astrid thought again, she needed him to find out Abstergo's plan. Reason broke through and Astrid released her hold on Vidic's bluish face. He collapsed on the ground, gasping and clutching at his bruised throat, flat his back like a cement block. "We're all alone, just like you said, and I could kill you in an instant. Now, you tell me Vidic, before I loose it. What are you planning?" Astrid demanded calmly, watching the outrage on his face contort into pure fear.

"I'm going to have you killed!" Vidic wheezed pathetically, still gasping, sweat beading his forehead as she leaned back against the machine, crossing her arms over her chest. Astrid shrugged nonchalantly and watched as he struggled to his feet and Desmond emerged with Lucy behind him from his room, both of them watching Vidic closely. However, Desmond studied Astrid's pale, haggard face and knew that the woman was close to loosing it.

Desmond had overheard her demand. "They're planning something to happen on December twenty-one. Right, Vidic?" He urged the doctor on, unflinching when Vidic turned furious eyes on him, as if he was a traitor.

"Yes! We are! And you can't stop anything that will happen. We – Abstergo – will be responsible for a new world. A peaceful world where war will be obsolete and virtually nonexistent… you've seen the world, haven't you, Astrid. Everyday, humans come closer to self-destruction. We're just putting a stop to it. The pieces of Eden are the key, you know. The power they hold, it'll just be enough for their power to take hold of the entire world. It's only that…" He trailed off with a filthy look at Astrid and Desmond.

"Only that what?" Astrid demanded, an ominous feeling creeping into her spine. She didn't like where Vidic was headed. She'd felt the power of _one_ artifact and knew that all of them combined would be an impossible force to fight. "How?"

"The satellite, cloaked as a new communications satellite, holding the artifacts will be launched into the space, into the orbit at a good enough distance from Earth to entrap the entire world. No more fighting. No more anything." The word anything sounded so empty. Desmond tensed next to her, his eyes wide and disbelieving as Vidic finally voiced his plan. So this was the new world Vidic was so obsessed with. Astrid, stared, a bit confused at Vidic's ramblings. "Yet, like your Altair, there are people who are not affected by the artifact. What they do and who they are… they're too close together for the Piece of Eden to really function. They would rebel, no doubt. They will be taken care of."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Astrid demanded. 'Taken care of' had only one meaning in her dictionary – and she didn't like it.

"The Piece of Eden works like the Animus. It filters into the mind forcing you to believe anything the one who holds the artifact wishes. It is nothing more than illusions – illusions that are necessary for mankind to survive. Think about it, if no one has to follow their own damn will no one would fight. No one would even think about war. No more crime!" Vidic announced proudly.

"You would wipe everyone clean. They would be shells filled with air and bullshit illlusions," Astrid said quietly, finally understanding the depth of Abstergo's quest. They didn't want to steal artifacts. They wanted to destroy what made everyone uniquely human. "That's beyond despicable, Vidic. That's monstrous. Everyone would just be a slave, a goddamn ant to your will," Astrid spat.

"Be that as it may," a loud voice rang out from what sounded several speakers with an intensely high volume, "there is nothing you can do to stop it, Miss Castillo. You and your little posse have done enough to slow us down, but the satellite will launch two days from now. " Astrid whirled, eyes searching for the source of the high, reedy voice and was met with a face opposite of the glass in the conference room. He was a short, portly man who smiled rather kindly at Astrid through cold, empty eyes and Desmond's lips curled. This was the same man who ordered his death nonchalantly after the last memory with Altair. He stood with such regality with two hulking bodyguards that it didn't take two assassins and a light bulb to figure out who was heading the project and she committed his face to memory, marking it with a white feather.

"This session is over, Vidic. Tomorrow is preparation day." The man's eyes flickered, mockingly regretful, over Astrid and Desmond, almost as if saying, 'Pity we have to eliminate you.' He bade them one last look before sliding his sunglasses on and nodding to his hulks.

"Watch your back," Desmond called, brown eyes piercing through the glass, seeking the empty blue eyes through the shades. When he found nothing but a shadow, Desmond smiled rather coldly, surprising both Astrid and Lucy with the sudden intensity to his character.

********

"Do you see them?" Josette asked anxiously in the darkness. She constantly lost sigh in the assassin in the pitch darkness of the night. The only sign that told her he was still beside her was the deep breathing and occasional shuffle. Josette, who had never actually killed someone directly by her own hand, was trembling. The explosion was a detached mission – necessary to cover her tracks. She'd never seen the eyes or faces of those whose lives she'd claimed. But she was young and she saw the face of the man with the pale blue eyes who ordered Astrid and Desmond's death with such cold apathy. It had shaken her, she realized, that people like that existed.

"Yes. Astrid is on the right, Desmond on the left," Altair murmured, watching through the night vision binoculars as Astrid entered her room, giving her surroundings one more once-over. They had to go through the motions of watching Vidic's procedure – they couldn't risk an all-out attack on the building once Josette had discovered motion sensors on nearly every floor and nerve gas that would be automatically expelled if the sensors at the front, back and side entrances scanned DNA that did not match any Abstergo employee. Altair growled under his breath. Astrid always looked so weak and tired after those sessions…

"Has Quincy called you back?" Altair asked suddenly. Quincy and Sam had collaborated to their plans as much as they could from a distance as Quincy recovered. Josette was about to answer when Altair jerked forward, suddenly tense and alert.

"What is it?" Josette asked urgently.

The night vision goggles, the distance and Lucy's stealth had impeded Altair to see the moment where Lucy had slipped Desmond the pen that she'd reprogrammed to hold the facility's access codes, allowing Desmond to exit his room and sneak onto the computer. Altair couldn't see exactly what Desmond was investigating but he handed the specs to Josette who immediately looked through. She bit her lip as she studied Desmond before moving onto the room. It was plain, too open and the floors too slick for an open battle to break out. There was not enough cover for them to use as shields… but, Josette zoomed out so that the entire floor was visible, she wondered if the glass was shatterproof. It was a high-rise building, she reasoned, so the windows would have to be stronger, but would they hold against an explosive? Josette sat back, still studying the building.

"_C'est_ _possible_… Altair, I think I have a plan," Josette's voice was lilted and smug. There was a curved, wicked smile on her face and for a moment, to Altair, she looked strangely sinister, yet there was no mistaking the startling intelligence and determination that seemed to glow from her.

"What is it?" Altair questioned, apprehension building in him. Whatever it was she had in her mind was surely to be suicidal and impossible – but then that was the reason he was who he was. Returning her smile in the spirit of true comradeship, he listened to her plan, mouth slacking at the possibilities of everything going wrong and positively lethal outcomes if they should.

It baffled him for a second when the two outstandingly different women could sound so similar.

"Are you ready?"

* * *

AN: Another shortie, but I'm really just prepping up for the last few chapters. Perhaps only two are left – depends if Altair and Josette are successful in their plan. Also, I'm happy to announce That I'll be posting a new story soon, I hope to see you there!

Like?


	14. Rescue

**Chapter Fourteen: Rescue; December 20th, 2012**

It escaped Lucy as to how someone like Vidic, someone who supposedly had a scientific mind, could believe so deeply in a plain silver orb that produces elaborate illusions and mind control. Sure, she admitted grudgingly to herself, she had seen the power of the artifact through Desmond's – or rather Altair's – memories and she had seen the 'God' concept the artifact tended to inflict on those who searched for the ultimate control like Vidic… but she doubted whether the artifacts would even work on the whole planet and enslave everyone.

Lucy shuddered at the thought. It was an ambitious plot – one they had infinite resources to realize – but she often wondered if Abstergo underestimated humankind… she knew that not everyone would be take over by the artifacts. Altair was proof that there are some minds that are utterly impenetrable and Lucy hoped that her own mind was the same. She leaned back on the office chair and sighed. Nearly one in the morning – she knew Desmond would ask about the shadows under her eyes – and she couldn't even think about closing her eyes, no matter how tired she was. This was, after all, the only time she was able to dig deep into the network and find what she needed. Her role, her infiltration into Abstergo had its drawbacks, and sighing, Lucy lowered the brightness on the computer screen, hoping there were no guards about.

Pulling her jet-black blazer over her shoulders and buttoning it securely, Lucy easily hacked the access pad to her room and slid out into the wide hallway. The inside of the building resembled a lawyer's office with its dark brown carpets and stucco walls – it was a nice change from the gleaming, impenetrable steel walls from the American facility. That change meant, of course, that Lucy had to constantly check her map, drawn with her fountain pen on her wrist, to make sure she was going the right direction, since it was so easy to get lost in that large Italian facility. Lucy, who was fluent in Italian, was getting the hang of the signs and schedules of the guards, so when she spotted the guard at the end of the hall with his back to her, Lucy slid into an empty office – the one she had unlocked earlier with Vidic wasn't looking – and waited for the slow steps that passed her hiding spot.

Lucy's training had been cut short, she remembered, when she was asked – though she later volunteered after being pulled away from her mission – to infiltrate Abstergo. Sighing, with her heart pounding hard in her chest like wrecking balls clashing, Lucy slipped out the door and she hurried down the hall to where she knew was the Vidic's private conference room. Vidic, who was definitely not the top official in charge of the satellite mission, had enough information that was accessible to her. Cursing under her breath, Lucy slammed her credit card between the doorjamb and slammed her shoulder against the wood. She didn't worry about the noise she made – she was sure the guard was far enough that he wouldn't have heard... she hoped.

In the pitch black room, she felt her way - hands running over smooth wood, her forearm bumping into chairs - to the computer she needed to hack into. She'd taken a leaf out of Desmond's book when she'd stolen Vidic's access pen from his own pocket and had anonymously submitted it to the front desk in an envelope to quell the suspicion. It was nearly perfect, she thought giddily when her stolen codes left the computer wide open. This was the payout she'd been working so far for – for herself and for the Assassins. It didn't take long for Lucy to slip inside the ghost drive containing the files she needed. Using a remote connection and a proxy* just to be safe, Lucy set up a connection to Sam's computer via satellite.

Lucy's breath was coming in sharp, stinging gasps as she accessed the files. It was nothing she hadn't already deducted – blueprints of the satellite, reports on progress, Lucy was surprised at the amount of money spend on the project as it was more than Abstergo's income the entire time they'd existed… surely it meant that Abstergo's plan was to erase all of humanity's economic process, if not the entire record of their existence.

When she came across the photos, she stopped. Lucy had been aware that Abstergo had literally stolen several innovative Japanese and Indian mathematicians and engineers to perfect the model of the satellite but she had not expected the sleekness of the vessel. It was designed like a bullet, Lucy figured the point would face the Earth, and she could see several artifacts in their own distinctive shells inside the steel structure… Lucy shuddered.

Using the remote link, Lucy uploaded the information – quite a bit of it – and sent it to Sam and Quincy, who was well enough to travel and fight again. It was comforting, Lucy thought, to have a group of assassins so well trained… yet she was aware their situation was nearly impossible. Abstergo was so close to the end of their plans that if something didn't happen Lucy feared they really might succeed with their plans. Once she received the small coded message from Sam confirming the exchange, she quickly reset the time and shut off the computer after making sure to destroy all evidence that she was here.

Lucy gathered her wits and took a deep breath when a hand, a very familiar hand, closed over her mouth. It was small and dainty, and the body she felt pressed against her back was slight. If it wasn't for her own shock, Lucy was sure she would have screamed.

"It's alright. It's me, Josette."

Relief, like a tidal wave, broke over Lucy who had been tensed to fight and she let out the painful breath she had been holding. Her heart now pounded audibly in her ears and she whirled once the hand disappeared from her mouth. "Josey, goddammit, you scared the hell out of me!" Lucy gasped, hand clasped over her heart, hardly believing what had just happened.

"I know, I know, you need to go back to the Animus room… Altair will be there in a moment, okay? Now _allez_!"

Lucy sputtered out her questioning and surprise to the shadow that slithered along the wall and out into the hall, where she could not mistake the sound of a body falling to the ground. It was Josette's work, no doubt, and Lucy bolted down the hall again, retracing her steps and crashing headlong into Desmond as he and Astrid snuck down the hall in their own plan.

"Lucy!" Desmond wheezed as the blonde smashed into his chest at a full sprint, his arms going around her instinctively. Astrid hissed out, she nearly screeched, a muted curse when Desmond's shoe slammed down on her toes when he staggered back with the force of Lucy's momentum and she shoved at his back so he wouldn't overbalance and topple into her. Lucy gasped again as the force of her sprint blew the breath from her lungs and she stared, wide eyed, up at Desmond's shocked brown eyes.

"Ow, Christ!" Astrid swore over Lucy's fast pants. It was then, when her female mind noted to protective stance Desmond took over Lucy, with his shoulders bent over her and his arms loosely but firmly around her that she noticed something was happening… but her attention snapped back to the situation at hand – and shoving Desmond away from Lucy, she stood in front of the startled blonde, her body already tense.

"What happened?" Astrid asked fiercely, her mind already working around possible scenarios… what if Altair was here? Her heart skipped a beat, first with fear for him and then it swelled with a glowing warmth she didn't dare acknowledge yet – yet she knew it was there and held it to her chest.

"Josette is here, she told me to run back here… that Altair was coming." Lucy spoke so fast it took Astrid and Desmond a second more to process what was said before Lucy pushed them both inside the Animus room, her ears having picked up the sounds of heavy footsteps, the guards, and reacting instinctively. She followed and shut the door with the key code before whirling and staring at Desmond. "How did you get out of here?" Lucy wondered.

"I filched Vidic's pen," Desmond answered easily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Lucy stared for a moment before shaking her head, thinking, _of course he would_. In his situation she would do the same.

"That's fun and fantastic, but where is Altair?" Astrid demanded eyes darting around for potential weapons… her eyes landing on the Animus Mark II – sitting docilely by the first Animus. She hated that machine.

"She just said he was coming… I don't know what they're planning -," Lucy began to explain Josette's stealth attack on her when the conference door slammed open. Stifling her shriek, Lucy whirled behind her to meet Vidic's furious eyes with her own. Desmond instinctively grabbed her and shoved her behind him, immediately protective while he waited. Lucy was gasping behind him while Astrid leapt forward, letting instinct guide her movements – not paying any notice to what she was doing – only aware that Vidic – the enemy – was before her and behind him was a small army of guards with sleek black weapons pointed in their direction – so the status quo must be changed.

Had she reacted perhaps a second too late, Desmond thought, there would have been no chance for them to escape. His gaze never left Vidic's face as he processed the truth about Lucy who was never really under his thumb. Her identity, as an assassin, was clear as day now but he only had a second to see the realization dawn on his captor's face before Astrid whirled him around with her hands positioned on the top of his head and under his jaw – with him in front of her so she was hidden from the weapons' barrels. Her eyes were frosty and she twisted his head just slightly to let him know that with one small jerk of her hands, he would die in an instant. It also registered with the guards that were no longer the ones with the upper hand as the professional swagger they rushed in with was wavering and gone as the weapons lowered slightly. Astrid did not see Desmond move closer so that they were also hidden from view.

"Don't shoot!" Vidic croaked immediately, an unrecognizable fear when he realized he could die for both angles, his stiff body twitching from the awkward position his neck was in.

"Good," Astrid murmured in his ear. "Now tell them to drop their weapons and kick them towards us." At his silence Astrid applied a little more pressure, making sure he couldn't move by trapping his feet with hers. The last bit of pressure was enough for Vidic, who barked out the order, and Astrid did not miss the loathing in his voice.

From Astrid's vantage point, she could not see, as Desmond and Lucy saw the small silver object skid across the floor. Desmond had seen only one during his short-lived training and he knew what it was and that was during a demonstration to show its effects. The object was sleek and silent, weightless as it was stopped by a guard's heel and he didn't even flinch. "Hold your breath," he breathed to Lucy who had briefly noticed the small object but glanced away quickly to avoid drawing attention it. The small device spit in the middle and Desmond could see waves of compressed nerve gas being released from the device, taking only seconds to reach the guards. Astrid paused, confused only for a moment until she heard Desmond take a deep breath. In unison, as if rehearsed, the guards dropped and behind them – Astrid's eyes widened like saucers – stood Josette and Altair. Because Vidic did not see the nerve gas, Astrid dropped him, still holding her breath, as she counted thirty seconds. It was enough time to make sure the gas had dispersed into the air. Letting out a breath, Astrid's hands were limp at her sides as her gray eyes met the sinful brown set in a tan face. The lips, more bow shaped than she remembered, parted slightly.

Nothing was said, and nothing was done for the few seconds that Altair saw that she was perfectly fine – with the exception of the shadows under the eyes and bruises on her wrists – and something in him relaxed. He realized that this mission had not been about stopping Abstergo but getting her. It chilled him for a moment to realize that she was as much a part of him now as he was of her. He could tell by the way her face paled at the realization that there was more between them than they thought.

The realization was private, as during this small, silent exchange of a long look between the two, Josette had all but leapt at Lucy, and spoke in rapid French. Astrid's gaze was ripped from him when the small girl had also leapt at her, relief on her features.

"What took you so long?" Desmond said quietly, the humor very subtle that only Altair caught it. He cracked a smile at the man – he was still unable to grasp that Desmond was a very distant family to him as family was no more than a hazy concept to him who had grown up with his brothers to call family.

The bond was broken however, when a guard stirred and the room stilled briefly, all eyes darting to the guard that moaned and stilled slightly, the nerve gas already wearing off. They, silently, as one, darted over the forms of the guards and slipped down the hall, thanking whatever force they wanted to, for making the building a flat, compared to the high rise in the States, with only six floors. They exploded outside, facing a deep night, and wordlessly split up. Desmond and Lucy in one vehicle left the day before by Josette and Altair, and the other three in the larger car.

They peeled off into the night, Josette being more familiar with the Italian countryside than all the rest, directed Astrid's driving to the city of Bassano, near Venice. The reason for Bassano was because the oldest Bureau in Italy was centered there. It was a short drive at the speed Astrid drove through the winding Italian countryside, hardly stopping, hardly speaking a word – only aware that their mission was at an end. Soon, tomorrow to be exact would be the day they would prove themselves, their purpose and the reason for their presence to the Templars and to the world. It was a somber and huge concept, one Astrid did not fail to grasp, and it settled over the three in the car. Josette's young age and perceptive nature feeling the change in the mission.

"We'll stop it," she murmured, aware that two heard, but made no noise to suggest it.

* * *

AN: So sorry it took so long for this but with the start of school and getting used to an insane schedule has pretty much sucked up all my time. I've been writing scraps of this over the days. However, the end is nearing and another story is coming to play. Two actually! This was more of a thoughtful chapter than an action one... probably because of school that I've been forced to use my brain more often. The next part... and an epilogue (maybe?) will be up soon.


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